Let it Die
by PureSirius
Summary: Six years after Voldemort was defeated, Harry and Ginny are happily married with a child on the way. The night Ron proposes to Hermione, she ends the relationship, and finds comfort from an unlikely person.Draco/Hermione
1. Chapter 1: An Unexpected Meeting

A/N: It has been a VERY long time since I've written fanfiction, or anything more than a few pages every few weeks (or months) for that matter. So please be patient if some of the writing is a little poor, I'm about four years out of sustainable practice.

This story was inspired by the Three Days Grace song "Let it Die"

Disclaimer: The characters, except those created by me, are the property of J.K Rowling, as is the world of Harry Potter. Please don't sue :(

–..-..-Chapter 1-..-..-

It should have been a good day. It was warm, sunny, and Ron Weasley planned to propose to Hermione Granger, the girl he had been in love with since Hogwarts. He even reserved a table on the outside patio of her favorite restaurant in London. The sun had just settled below the horizon when he finally pulled out the little black box and opened it. A simple diamond ring glinted, reflecting the fairy lights from nearby flutterby bushes.

"Hermione," he said quietly, trying to swallow the nervous knot in his throat.

Tears were filling Hermione's eyes as she stared at the ring, refusing to look at Ron; if she did, she was certain the tears would start to fall. Once upon a time, she would have given anything to hear the words that were bout to come from Ron. But now...

"Will you-"

"Ron," she interrupted.

He looked at her, nervous, but expectant.

"I'm sorry..." she finally looked at him, giving into the tears that now ran down her cheeks. Standing up and looking as if she were about to commit a horrible sin, she said, "I...I can't see you anymore..."

Ron stared, open mouthed, at her as she turned and left him sitting with the ring in front of him, still twinkling innocently.

She raced pass all the staring guests who just witnessed her dramatic break up, but she didn't care. All that mattered was getting as far away from Ron as possible. She never wanted to hurt him, even if she didn't love him anymore, he would always be someone important.

Ron was calling her as she continued to walk as quickly as she could through the crowded London street. She refused to turn around.

"Hermione!"

She continued walking.

"Hermione!" A hand grabbed her wrist and forced her around.

Now that she was facing him, Ron grabbed her shoulders and stared at her; wide blue eyes boring into watery brown ones. "Hermione, what do you mean you..." he swallowed, as if repeating the words was too painful.

"Ron, even you must realize things have been different for us!" Hermione said tearfully.

His grip tightened briefly, but loosened again. His eyes were searching hers, desperately looking for an answer. "Different?"

"We barely even speak these days," she said. "We live in the same flat, but it feels like we're complete strangers. I _tried_ to bare with it, but I just can't anymore!"

"Then let's talk!" he said hopelessly. "Hell, let's go somewhere, away from Britain-"

But Hermione shook her head and stepped away from him so his hands fell away from her shoulders. How do you explain you simply fell out of love with someone? Even Hermione found it hard to believe at first. "I can't. It's already over."

"Y-you won't even try?" He finally yelled, overcome with desperation.

"I _did_, Ron!" She yelled back, ignoring the stares they were receiving from passerby. "A whole year I tried!"

Now Ron took a step back, the hopeless look now turning to one of hurt and betrayal. "No..." he said softly, shaking his head. "You didn't." And he left.

Left standing alone on the crowded street, Hermione watched him until he finally disappeared into the sea of people. Once she lost sight of him, she turned on her heal and walked the opposite direction, with no destination in mind.

Eventually, she found herself outside the Leaky Cauldron. Just the thought of having a drink (or several) made her feel better. She walked in, took the only available seat at the bar, and ordered some firewhiskey, paying no attention to the patrons on either side of her. Normally, she only drank butterbeer or weak cocktails, but tonight she needed something stronger.

She drained her first glass in a matter of moments, and was about to order a second when one of the men she ignored earlier filled her glass with a bottle of firewhiskey he had obviously bought for himself.

Knowing all too well how easy it was to poison or drug someone, she didn't touch her drink. Mad-Eye would have been proud.

"It's not poisoned or drugged, Granger," the man said, as if reading her mind. His voice was so familiar, Hermione's head snapped up to look at him. Even the poor pub lighting could not hide the platinum blond hair and distinctive pointed face of Draco Malfoy.

As if to prove his point, he drained his own glass, poured another from the same bottle, and took a sizable swing.

Hermione continued to stare at him. They had not seen each other since the night Lord Voldemort fell. She knew he owned some Quidditch team, but she couldn't remember which, Ron -her heart gave a painful jolt- or Harry mentioned it one day. After six years, he still looked the same, except his hair was a little longer and fell carelessly around his ears and face; in school there had never been a hair out of place. He also seemed more– _mature. _The Draco Malfoy she knew at Hogwarts would never have poured her a drink. In fact, he wouldn't have been found alone in a pub either.

She watched as he took another sip, still staring at some invisible spot on the bar.

Though reluctant, and admittedly still suspicious, she finally looked away and took a sip, determined to make this glass last longer. They drank in silence, until eventually, Hermione finished her second glass, and Draco refilled it once again. When she thew him a suspicious look, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and smirked.

Finishing his own drink and pouring another glass, he asked, "Something wrong, Granger?"

"Why do you keep pouring me drinks?"

He simply shrugged in response, taking a sip.

Hermione "tch"ed, but drained her glass again anyway, this time, grabbing the bottle herself and pouring another glass. By now, she was already quite drunk, but the numbness that so often accompanied alcohol consumption felt good.

"You _have_ changed, Draco," she said his name in that condescending tone she so often saved for Harry and Ron while they were at school, and they failed to understand something she thought was obvious.

Taking another sip and propping her elbow on the bar so she could rest her head against her hand, she looked at Draco, smiling. "Cheers," she raised her glass, waiting for him to clink his glass against hers. When he didn't, she clicked her glass against his, which was still resting on the bar.

For the first time that night, Draco looked at Hermione. He watched her drink, frowning thoughtfully, but she simply smiled at him before looking away, her chin still resting in her hand.

After a few moments, he finally looked ahead of him again and drank. "Something wrong, Granger?" he asked again.

Hermione gave a drunken nod. "I'm _horrible" _she said despairingly.

This made him smirk again, which angered Hermione, who saw it out of the corner of her eye. "You!" She shouted, pointing at Malfoy who gave a start at the sudden outburst. Several people turned to stare at them.

"You..." she said, her voice quieter this time, looking away again. "Don't smirk..." she mumbled, before draining another glass and the last of the bottle.

Her ordered another one.

"What makes famous Potter's mudblood friend so horrible?" he asked, smirk still firmly in place. He never used the term 'mudblood' anymore, but he was looking to get a rise out of Hermione.

Sure enough, she glared at him. "_That_ is none of your business, Malfoy."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her. "After drinking half a bottle of _my_ whiskey, don't you think you're being a little rude, Granger?"

For the first time, he actually seemed to render her speechless. It didn't last long.

"What are _you_ doing here, then?"

"Quid pro quo," he replied, earning a scowl.

Hermione finished another drink, and Draco poured her another.

"Where are Potter and Weasley while you're drinking yourself into oblivion, then?"

At the mention of Ron, tears welled up again. "You – complete – _arse_ – Draco Malfoy!" She wailed loudly, smacking his arm with every word.

He stared at her incredulously, as if she had lost her mind. Perhaps she had, for she was now crying uncontrollably with her head buried in her arms.

Draco could barely hear her next words, "I-I never m-meant to h-hurt him!" she sobbed. "But I j-just c-couldn't do it anymore! S-six y-years!" And she began crying harder.

He finally understood. "Finally broke it off with Weasley?" he confirmed, the smugness from their school days returning instantly, making Hermione send him a teary-eyed glare.

"Oh, what do you know, Malfoy!" she snapped.

But his smug look never faded, and he finished yet another drink. "Well done. S'pose you can find a _real_ man now."

Too drunk to argue, Hermione merely responded with another "tch" and looked away from him, preferring to star at the bar than the arrogant face of the man next to her. "You will always be an arrogant arse," she said tiredly. After a short pause, she added, "Quid pro quo."

"What?"

"Quid pro quo," she repeated. "I told you why I'm here," she sipped her drink and looked at him. "Your turn."

He shrugged, staring at the bar again instead of her. "Messy divorce."

Hermione blinked, and tried to clear away the fuzziness caused by the alcohol. Surely she was hearing things. She simply could not imagine Malfoy married, let alone divorcing at twenty-three. The only response her alcohol-addled mind could come up with was a soft, "oh."

"Go on and say it..." he said evenly as he took another swing of whiskey. "Draco Malfoy...can't even manage to keep married for more than a year..."

But Hermione had fallen asleep on the bar, knocking over her glass so what remained of her drink flowed over the counter, onto the bar, and soaking Draco's sleeve.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, quickly standing up and drying his stained sleeve with his wand; the fabric was too expensive to let it get ruined by whiskey. Once he made sure his robes were safe, he turned to Hermione. "Now what?"

He tried asking Tom, the ancient inn keeper, if there were any empty rooms available. There weren't. He had no intention of bringing her to his home; the last thing he needed was one of the goons Astoria hired to follow him seeing a strange woman being brought into their house. He could just leave her there. He thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. Even he wasn't that ill-mannered.

He tried shaking her awake. "Granger."

She didn't respond.

Draco let out a frustrated sigh, but tried again. "Granger!" He shook harder, this time, at least getting a groan in response. "Granger, it's time to go..." he shook her again, received another groan, and a few inaudible slurred words. Sighing again, he finally resigned to physically removing her from her seat which, given he was a head taller than her should not have been very difficult. Unfortunately, he was also slightly drunk, and she was dead weight, so it took a few awkward moments of fumbling and staggering steps to finally sling her arm over his shoulder, while he put the other around his waist. Miraculously, she had not completely passed out and managed to somewhat support her own weight, but he was still doing most of the work.

Now that he successfully made it out of the pub on to the slowly emptying muggle street (it was so late, most people were either staggering home or already there), he had returned to the problem of what to do with Hermione. He was not going to attempt apparating anywhere; it was tricky enough drunk (and not recommended), but with Hermione hanging off him like a drunken monkey, one of them was going to get splinched. In any case he had no idea where she lived or where to take her. He had no muggle money, but he didn't like the idea of taking a muggle taxi anyway. Floo powder would work if Hermione was capable of speaking clearly. Finally, he was left with one, though undesirable, solution. With some difficultly, he threw out his right arm.

Moments later, a tripe-decker purple bus came hurtling toward him, forcing several cars to jump out of the way.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus-"

"Yeah, I know," Draco interrupted, pushing Stan Shunpike out of the way, and tossing Hermione unceremoniously on the nearest bed. He _hated_ the Knight Bus. It was loud, moved too much, and worst of all, _far_ below Draco's standards. He was the owner of a Quidditch team for crying out loud! He shouldn't have to rely on transportation as lowly as the _Knight Bus_.

"Where to?" Stan asked once Draco handed him a handful of sickles.

As before, Draco had no idea where to take Hermione. In a desperate last attempt to find her a place to stay before he _did_ end up taking her home with him, he shook her and repeated Stan's question, adding, "Unless you would prefer to I leave you on the street tonight."

She mumbled something he couldn't understand.

"What?" He asked, leaning in so he could hear better.

"Harry's..."

Draco straightened. Finally he had an answer. But of course, there was another problem: he didn't know where Potter lived.

"'Arry Potter's?" Stan asked sounding excited. "Took Miss Lovegood there a few days ago, didn't we, Ern?"

The old man grunted in response. And just like that, the Knight Bus gave a violent lurch, causing Draco to stubble back on his bed. They were now speeding through London, jumping onto sidewalks and forcing light posts, benches, and even an entire building, to leap out of the way. His head began to pound and his stomach turned unpleasantly. The Knight Bus was no friend to the alcohol-impaired. It wasn't long before they raced through the suburbs, and into the country, where only a few spare mailboxes and cows had to avoid the bus.

At long last, they came to an abrupt halt.

"'Arry Potter's 'ouse," Stan announced.

Not bothering to thank him, Draco carried Hermione off the bus the same way he dragged her onto it. No sooner had his feet touched the pavement, did the bus take off again.

Her looked around at his surroundings, and saw...nothing. There was no house in sight. Just a mailbox on the side of the road where he stood and a cobblestone path. Assuming the house must be concealed somehow, he walked up the path, and sure enough, it appeared after a few feet.

It was surprisingly modest, given that Potter was by no means poor. A mid-sized two-story stone cottage with a porch stood before him. No one would have guessed "The Chosen One" lived here. Then again, that was probably the point.

He lead Hermione up the stairs of the porch, and with great difficulty, knocked loudly.

No response.

Given the time of night he wasn't surprised. He knocked again. This time, he saw a light turn on through the window above the door.

"Who is it?" Potter's voice called, still thick from sleep. Despite the tone of voice, Draco knew there was probably a wand pointed at him through the door. Years of being targeted by the most powerful dark wizard in history would make anyone cautious; not to mention being paranoid was part of an auror's job description.

"Malfoy..." he answered. "Come get your damn friend, Potter."

Almost immediately, the door opened and revealed a slightly disheveled Harry Potter with his wand still slightly raised, eying Draco suspiciously. Ginny Potter stood behind him, wand out as well. Harry's eyes fell to Hermione, whose head had lolled onto Draco's shoulder.

"What are you doing with Hermione?" He shot Draco a shocked, and somewhat accusatory look, as if he had somehow kidnapped her, but changed his mind.

Draco shifted Hermione, because it was becoming difficult to hold her. "She's drunk, Potter," he spat, annoyed. He just wanted to go home. "Take her so I can leave."

Still in a state of disbelief that Draco Malfoy was standing on his doorstep with one of his best friends (who was barely conscious), he took Hermione.

Now that he was free from his burden, Draco turned to leave.

"Malfoy!" Potter's voice made him stop and look over his shoulder, hoping he wasn't about to be asked to help Granger any more than he already had. Instead, Potter merely said, "Thank you...for, er...taking care of her..." there was an awkward pause as they two men stared at each other.

Finally, Draco turned away again and shrugged. "Even _I wouldn't_ leave a woman alone in that condition. Even if it is Granger."

Once he reached the point where the house was no longer visible, he apparated.

–..-..-..-

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	2. Chapter 2: The Next Morning

Disclaimer: Please see chapter 1 :)

–..-..-Chapter 2-..-..-

The next morning was opposite in every way from the previous day. Clouds had moved in during the early hours, bringing a miserable, cold, drizzly rain. The weather must have felt the need to show Hermione just how horrible she felt. Not that she needed help; the hangover was more than enough.

She sat up and looked around the room. Of course, she reminded herself; she was at Harry's. When she thought about how she had gotten there, she groaned. She couldn't believe Draco Malfoy, of all people, saw her in such an embarrassing state.

Not wanting to check just _how_ unpresentable she looked, she skipped the bathroom, and headed straight downstairs. Judging by Harry and Ginny's reactions when she entered the kitchen, she must have looked pretty awful.

"Morning, Hermione," Harry greeted from the bar that was a part of their stone counters.

Ginny smiled and placed a mug on the counter for her. "Hangover potion," she said.

Hermione took it gratefully. It was a very bland potion, with only a hint of chili pepper.

"Better?" Ginny asked.

"Yes," she said quietly, feeling a bit ashamed for intruding on her friends. "I'm so sorry..."

Ginny waved her off, telling her she was always welcome. Though she was curious as to why Hermione had turned up so drunk, and with Malfoy no less.

"Where was Ron?" she asked, taking a seat at the bar. Now that she had moved from behind the counter, Hermione could see her stomach was significantly larger than the last time they met. Ginny was due with their first born in only a few months.

"We..." Hermione shifted uncomfortably as tears began to creep to the surface again. "Broke up..." she finished quietly.

There was a stunned silence, in which Hermione refused to look at either Ginny or Harry. Instead, she stared at her hands, willing herself not to cry.

"Are...you _serious_, Hermione?" Harry finally asked, his voice a little faint.

Unable to speak passed the lump forming in her throat she just nodded.

"Bloody hell..."

"I know!" she finally wailed. "I know, I'm h-horrible!" she started to sob, losing the battle against her tears.

Ginny stood up and hugged her. "No, you're not..." she said. "It's okay."

"How? I thought everything was fine..." Harry said. "He..." he trailed off, making Hermione and Ginny look at him.

Ginny's eyes suddenly widened when her eyes met Harry's as realization settled in.

"He was going to propose...last night..." he finished.

Hermione cried harder, startling Harry. He gave Ginny a hopeless look. How do you comfort your friend, who just broke your other friend's heart, and then proceeded to drink herself silly with an old school enemy?

"Hermione..." he stood up and put a hand on her shoulder. "I-It's fine..." he said somewhat uncertainly. "You're not horrible..."

"Y-Yes I am!" she sobbed. "How do you just..._stop_ loving someone? He even proposed!"

Ginny and Harry shared a look. They didn't have an answer. The strain in the past year between Ron and Hermione hadn't gone completely unnoticed. Even Ginny expressed her concern to Harry before Ron and Hermione decided to move in together. Once Hermione moved into Ron's flat a year ago, they thought whatever issues there might have been, were resolved.

"Hermione...how long has this been going on?" he asked. It was impossible to fall out of love overnight.

She sniffed, trying to regain control of herself. "L-Last year."

Harry glanced at Ginny who gave him a look that clearly said, "I knew it."

"I thought..." she sniffed again. "We just weren't spending enough time together. Busy at work...but i-it never got b-better!" she began sobbing again.

Harry gave her shoulder a little squeeze and tried reassuring her. He felt bad for Ron, but Hermione was his friend too, and clearly upset. After a few moments, Ginny took over.

"I'm going to send an owl to Ron," Harry said. "I'm sure he's worried."

Hermione grabbed his sleeve as he turned to leave, looking at him imploringly. "Please don't tell him that I came here with..." she couldn't finish the sentence. Harry couldn't blame her. Ron would go ballistic if he knew Malfoy had been with Hermione. Even he wasn't very happy about it.

"I promise I won't."

She let him go.

Once Harry was gone, Ginny asked, "How _did_ you meet with Malfoy anyway?"

"I went to the Leaky Cauldron...it was full and the only seat available was next to him. I didn't even notice at first..." And she told Ginny how he poured her a drink and from there, drank several more glasses of whiskey with their one-time rival.

"So, nothing happened, then?" Ginny asked.

"Of course not!" she snapped, looking horrified at the thought.

"I'm sorry," Ginny apologized quickly. "It's just...showing up in the middle of the night like that..."

Hermione sniffed again. "I know..." she stood. "I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused."

Ginny smiled. "I've told you, you are always welcome."

Hermione returned with a watery smile.

Upon Ginny's insistence, Hermione finished the hangover potion before showering and dressing for work. Feeling that it would be too awkward for Hermione to return home to change, Ginny lent her a set of robes

Now, she stood nervously on the porch with Harry. They both worked at the Ministry: Harry in the Auror department with Ron, and Hermione in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Ginny was currently working at the joke shop with George, since she could not very well practice with the Hollyhead Harpies, pregnant.

"Ready to go?" Harry asked.

She wasn't, but nodded anyway.

They walked down the cobblestone path to the same point Malfoy disapparated the previous night, and did the same. Once they arrived at the Ministry, which was buzzing with the usual morning crowd of witches and wizards hurrying to their offices, Hermione headed straight for the nearest lift. Once she was on the fourth floor, she would be more or less safe. Ron worked on the seventh floor, so unless her came looking for her-

"Hermione!" Ron's voice made her stop and turn around.

He looked as if he hadn't slept. Once he caught up to her and Harry, he let out a relieved sigh. "Thank God you're alright! Do you have any idea how worried I was?" Apparently finding her alive and well made him ignore the fact she had just broken his heart less than twenty-four hours ago.

"Sorry, Ron..." she replied, not looking at him.

The doors to the lift opened, and Hermione made to get in, but Ron stopped her. "Hang on...can..." he swallowed nervously. "Can we talk?"

Harry entered the lift, deciding his friends needed to work things out without him watching. Hermione threw him a hopeless look, but turned back to Ron as the lift doors closed. Unless she wanted to make a run for the lift that just opened several feet away, she had no choice but to agree.

In an effort to stay away from other employees waiting for lifts, they moved to stand next to the fountain in the center of the Ministry's main entrance. Ron obviously decided it was safer to talk amongst hundreds of workers rushing to work than the more secluded floors of the Auror office, where everyone worked out of a cubicle. If either of them began yelling, it would still create a scene, but at least they were less of a spectacle amongst the hundreds of uninterested employees around them.

"Listen..." he started. "I'm sorry about last night. I just thought, you know..." he paused as if searching for the right thing to say. "You'd be ready after living together..."

"Ron, that's not-"

"It's okay!" He interrupted, a kind of manic smile on her face, as though he were a drowning man clinging onto a deflating lifesaver. "We don't have to get married now..."

"Ron-"

"Or ever!" he continued, becoming more desperate. "But, Hermione..." he grabbed her shoulders as he had the previous night. "Six years we've been together! We can get through this!"

Hermione stared at him, and for the second time that morning, willed herself not to cry. This time she was more successful, though there was a burning sensation in her throat that was difficult to ignore. "Ron, we _can't_."

Just then, Draco Malfoy walked passed them. His eyes met Hermione's and he smirked as his eyes flicked to Ron.

_Dear God, please keep walking_, she thought desperately, looking away from him in hopes he would leave them alone. The last thing she needed was a confrontation with Malfoy.

Unfortunately, he stopped, smirk firmly in place, and a glint in his eye that reminded her so much of the days he spent mocking them at school.

"Feeling better, Granger?" he asked, ignoring Ron's gaping behind his back.

Before she could answer, Ron managed to recover quickly and say, "Shove off, Malfoy."

Malfoy gave a small laugh, and moved so his back was no longer facing Ron. He addressed Hermione again. "Really, Granger, I thought you said you moved on to better things?"

Hermione gave Ron a horrified look. He was livid.

"What was that, Malfoy?" he snarled.

"She didn't tell you?" Malfoy was clearly enjoying himself. After all these years, Hermione could not believe he still got so much enjoyment out of taunting people. "_Hermione _and I had a _lovely_ chat at the Leaky Cauldron last night," he emphasized her name, which made Ron's ears turn red.

"Malfoy don't-"

But she cut herself off as Ron launched himself at Malfoy. She managed to place herself between the two men, holding onto Ron as he made to grab Malfoy, who looked as if he was having the time of his life. The scene was not going unnoticed by the other employees; some had even stopped to watch. It wouldn't be long before security came to investigate.

"Ron _don't_," Hermione pleaded, shoving him back a few steps. Now, she stood between the two. Malfoy was smirking; Ron looked murderous.

"_Why_ must you cause trouble?" Hermione asked Malfoy. "Things are hard enough as it is without you making them worse!"

"Weasley's the one causing a scene, Granger," Malfoy drawled.

"You-!" Ron started forward again, but stopped himself as a few security wizards made their way through the crowd of on-lookers. Reluctantly, he left, but not before throwing Malfoy one last dirty look.

Once Ron was gone, Hermione glared at Malfoy determined to give him a piece of her mind. "Why must you ruin _everything_? You arrogant-!"

The security wizards interrupted the rest of what she was about to say, "Everything okay here?"

"Fine," she answered, before turning on her heel and heading to the lifts. This was _not_ the way she wanted to begin her day.

The lift came, and she got on, along with a few others, including Malfoy.

She threw him a scathing look. "What are you doing?"

The lift jerked and started down.

"I have a meeting with the Minister of Magical Games and Sports. Not that it's any of _your_ business, Granger," he replied.

After that, they didn't speak. Hermione got off on her floor happy she was away from Malfoy.

The rest of the day was relatively normal. She was busying herself with a case involving a few illegally hunted unicorns, when Harry appeared over the wall of her cubicle asking if she wanted to join him for lunch.

She looked at him uncertainly.

As if reading her mind, he smiled and said, "Ron is going to lunch with Percy. Though I don't think he's too happy about it," he added, making Hermione laugh.

They decided to have lunch in muggle London in a small sandwich shop situated on the ground floor of some unnamed corporate building.

"Did you and Ron talk?" He asked, as they sat down. "He seemed a bit upset when he came into the office."

She sighed and told him about the whole incident with Malfoy.

When she finished, Harry sighed. "He will never change..."

Hermione didn't reply. She was so sure there was _something_ different about Malfoy, even if it was hidden beneath that smug persona of his. Then again, maybe the alcohol last night had made them both act a little different than they usually do.

"I was thinking..." Harry said after a short pause. "Why don't you stay with Ginny and I for a while? I'm sure she would love some help when the baby comes."

"Oh, no, Harry, I couldn't-!" She immediately protested. "I can just move in with mum and dad until I find another flat."

"C'mon, Hermione," he said. "Really, I think it'll be great."

"I don't want to-"

"-impose?" he finished, grinning a bit. "You're my best friend. And we have room."

"But-"

"Hermione..." he narrowed his eyes, fixing her with a very firm stare.

"Oh, alright," she sighed, giving in, but smiling all the same. Harry really was uncommonly kind. "Thank you, I really mean it."

Harry shrugged. "You're my best friend. It's the least I can do."

She nodded, though admittedly, still felt uncomfortable. Harry was doing his best to comfort her but she couldn't help but this Ron needed him more than she did. "What about Ron?" she asked voicing her concern.

"Don't worry about him," he replied.

"But-!"

"We're going out for drinks tonight," he said, smiling reassuringly. "And we're going to a Cannons match tomorrow. Really, _don't worry_."

She nodded again, feeling relieved that she, at least, wasn't keeping Harry from comforting the friend she felt deserved more sympathy.

They finished lunch and returned to work, where Hermione happily spent the rest of the day undisturbed.

–..-..-

Please Review!

A/N: And a quick note, just for fun. The reason the hangover potion has a faint taste of chili peppers is because chili peppers are apparently one of the ingredients in Korean hangover soup :) Oh and I apologize if this chapter is a bit boring. Chapters 3 and 4 are _much_ more interesting, I promise :)


	3. Chapter 3: The Deal

A/N: First of all, thank you very much for the reviews :) They were all wonderful! Again, I'm sorry for the anti-climatic 2nd chapter. Hopefully this one is a bit better.

Disclaimer: Please see chapter 1.

–..-..-Chapter 3-..-..-

Hermione decided to take the day off. Partly because she needed one, and also, she didn't want to risk running into Ron; yesterday was more than enough for now. So, she took a three day weekend. There was just one unpleasant thing she had to do: visit Malfoy's office.

Even though a large part of her knew he didn't deserve the thanks _or_ apology she was going to give him, a smaller, more civilized, part, knew it was only right. He helped her, only to have Ron try to kill him for it. In spite of his rude behavior at the Ministry, unfortunately, she did owe him something. So, she gave a heavy sigh, and reluctantly left the house, disapparating to the Falmouth Falcon's main office.

It was one of many buildings in a small, four-block business center. Surprisingly, everyone on the street looked to be wizard. Usually wizard offices hid among muggle buildings. It was a very unique city, with a Quidditch pitch in the foreground on the south side, and the east, west, and north sides consisting of farmland. The Falcon's office was across the street from where she stood, as an easily recognizable glass building, and large gray and white Falcons banner hanging in the large bottom floor windows. Somehow, the extravagance of the three-story building didn't surprise her. Malfoy was never one for modesty.

She walked in, and found herself in a large, spacious lobby, with a reception desk on the wall directly across from the doors, glass stairs on the left, and lifts similar to the Ministry's, on the right. She made her away to the desk, where a very bored witch sat, flipping through the latest issue of _The Quibbler_. She didn't even seem to notice Hermione.

"Um..." she started uncertainly. It didn't occur to her exactly _how_ she was going to see Malfoy. Being the owner of a Quidditch team, he was probably difficult to meet without an appointment. She might as well try.

"Excuse me..." she tried again, making an attempt to sound more important than she really was. "I'm here to see Draco Malfoy."

The witch didn't look up from her magazine as she pointed at the sign-in sheet. "Sign your name and head to the third floor to wait."

She did as instructed, surprised at how easy it was to get through. Malfoy really should think about getting a new receptionist.

When she arrived on the third floor, she found herself in yet another lobby. The walls were covered in Falcons' posters that had players zooming in and out of the frames chasing quaffles, bludgers, and snitches. There was an empty secretary's desk, black leather couches and chairs situated around two glass tables, one very large office she assumed was Malfoy's, and a conference room. His office took up the entire third floor. She shook her head, hardly believing it.

The blinds on the glass windows that made up his office walls were drawn, preventing her from peering inside to see if he was even there. After glancing around a bit and debating whether she should knock, she finally decided it made more sense than standing around waiting for someone to show up. For a Quidditch office, the place seemed unusually empty. When she visited Ginny at the Harpies office there were players, managers, and reporters everywhere.

Hesitantly, she knocked lightly on the door. A few moments later, it opened, revealing an irate Malfoy, and a haughty-looking dark-haired woman sitting in one of the armchairs in the middle of his office.

His annoyed expression turned to one of surprise when he realized who was standing in front of him. "Granger?"

She glanced at the woman, who looked around their age, if not a couple of years younger. Looking back at Malfoy, she suddenly felt embarrassed. "I'm sorry..." she said quickly. "I didn't realize you were busy."

Malfoy raised his eyebrow at her, making her feel even more flustered. It had been a while since she felt so uncomfortable.

"I-I'll just wait outside until you're finished..." she mumbled.

"No, that's okay," the woman stood. "We're finished here." She smiled politely at Hermione, ignoring the scathing look Malfoy was giving her.

"See you at home, Draco," the woman simpered as she was leaving.

He scowled and glared after her until she disappeared down the lift. "Manipulative little..." he trailed off, turning his attention to Hermione, and motioning for her to step into his office.

As expected, it was very large, with a black desk by the window that looked out to the Quidditch pitch she had seen earlier. There was a cluster of arm chairs and couches in the center of the room with a black table matching the desk, more Falcon's memorabilia hanging on the walls, and a bookshelf that reached all the way to the ceiling, doubling as an awards shelf. She even saw a second, smaller conference room through two glass doors.

"What are you doing here, Granger?" he asked, paying no attention to her staring around the room.

Giving herself a mental shake, she looked back at Malfoy, who was leaning against his desk, arms folded, staring blankly at her. He certainly didn't _look_ like the owner of a Quidditch team. Even though he was wearing sharp black robs, with a small gray Falcon's logo, he still looked like the Slytherin boy who mocked her and her friend's in school. But, there was still a sense of matureness she couldn't quite shake.

"I just wanted to thank you for the other night," she said, sounding very business-like.

He cocked an eyebrow at her again.

"And..." she paused, hardly believing she was going to apologize. "To apologize...for yesterday..."

A smirk crept onto his face, and Hermione did her best to ignore it.

"Ron is just a little sensitive," she finished.

"You came all the way here for that?" he asked, after a short pause.

Turning so his back was facing her, he began rearranging the scattered parchment on his desk.

"As for the other night, I will tell you what I told Potter. Even I wouldn't leave a woman alone in a bar in that condition."

Hermione blushed a little, feeling embarrassed again. She felt guilty for being such a burden to so many people lately.

"As for yesterday..." he continued, turning to look at her, and leaning against his desk again. "Apology _not _accepted."

Somehow, she felt like she should have been prepared for that, but the response still took her by surprise. "But-!"

He held up his hand to silence her. Unexpectedly, he cut herself short and waited for him to speak.

"If Weasley wants to apologize, he can do it himself. You don't-"

Hermione interrupted with a snort of derisive laughter. The idea of Ron ever apologizing to Malfoy for _anything_ was laughable. Short of killing his first born, she doubted there would ever be a time Ron would even consider the idea.

"Malfoy..." she let out another laugh, and smiled at him. His smirk at faded and he was looking at her with a patient expression . "First of all, Ron would probably eat a bucket of doxy eggs before even considering apologizing to you. And second, _you_ were the one who instigated the whole incident."

He smirked again, clearly amused. "I was only checking on you, _Hermione_," he said innocently, making her name sickeningly sweet.

She wanted to punch him. Instead, she settled for a very stern stare that would have made McGonagall proud. "You provoked him!" She let out an exasperated sigh. "I should have let him hit you."

Malfoy laughed at this, making Hermione look at him, shocked. It was a real laugh. Not the snide, arrogant, jeering laugh, she heard all too often during school, and hated. It was a boyish, amused laugh, and it oddly suited him.

"And _what_ is so funny?" she demanded.

Malfoy stopped laughing, and looked back at her, still grinning. "Nothing." He coughed, as if suppressing another laugh.

She watched as he pushed himself off the desk and walked passed her to open his office door. He was looking at her expectantly. Taking it as her cue to leave, she did. Except, instead of closing the door behind her, he followed, and silently beckoned her to follow him to the lifts.

Thinking he was going to escort her downstairs, she said, "I can go on my own, thanks."

He smirked at her. "I am going to treat you to lunch, Granger."

The lift arrived, and he stepped in, waiting.

She didn't move, thinking she must have heard wrong. "What?"

"Lunch, Granger," he repeated. "I have meetings all afternoon. It's eat now or..." she saw his eyes glint evilly. "Pay your friend Weasley a visit."

Hermione gave him a terrified look.

"You know," he continued, giving a very dramatic sigh. "I would _hate_ for him to get the wrong idea..."

"You..."

He justed continued smirking.

She entered the lift, furious she was being bullied into having lunch with Malfoy. This had to be punishment for breaking up with Ron, there was no other explanation. But she also helped save Malfoy's life, she should not have to put up with this!

They took the lift in silence, and left the building, still not speaking until they entered a small, crowded Italian restaurant. Most of the patrons seemed to be Falcon's fans, as they were all clad in dark gray and white robes, sporting the Falcon's logo. The reason why they were all gathered was immediately obvious: the Quidditch pitch could be seen clearly from one of the large windows. At the moment, she could see dark gray and white figures streaking across the pitch. That explained the absence of players and reporters.

Malfoy seemed to have noticed her watching, because he said, "This is the only restaurant where you can see the entire pitch. Fans come here to watch practices." They took a table on the second floor of the restaurant, where the view of the field was even better. "Mine is the only team where fans can watch the practice."

He looked quite pleased with himself, as if it had been his idea. But, little as she knew about Quidditch, she did know the Falcons were centuries old, so the chances of Malfoy being responsible for the convenient location of the restaurant was unlikely.

"This restaurant is quite old, then?" she asked evenly.

He shook his head. "Built just after the pitch." He looked very smug. "This town didn't exist until I moved the pitch, two years ago. The main office was in the heart if Falmouth surrounded by muggles. I wanted to watch the practices, so I moved everything here."

She didn't want to admit it, but she was impressed. Not only was an entire four-block small city built in only two years, but the muggles living in the neighboring farms had no idea that just over the hills an entire magical community worked and played Quidditch. Of course, there would be charms hiding the city and the pitch from view, but the amount of magic it took to accomplish this was difficult. The fact Malfoy was able to acquire the necessary Ministry approval was also amazing. Coming from an old, rich, pure-blooded family probably had a lot to do with it, she noted wryly.

"Hermione?" A familiar voice made her look away from her menu. It was Dean Thomas. He was looking between her an Malfoy with a mild look of shock. "What are you doing here?" Despite his confusion, he managed to smile at her. They hadn't seen each other since Harry's wedding.

She smiled back and jumped up to hug him. "Dean! How are you?"

"Good," he replied, motioning around the restaurant. "My old boss opened this place and put me in charge."

"That's wonderful!"

He grinned. "Thanks. I do alright."

Before she could continue catching up, Malfoy cleared his throat. "When you're done..." he said evenly.

She threw him a dirty look, while Dean apologized, though there was a clear tightness in his voice.

"The usual, then, Malfoy?"

Malfoy gave a very small nod, and handed Dean his menu.

Hermione gave her order, deciding on a grilled tomato and mozzarella panini, and gillywater.

Malfoy snorted back a laugh, making her look at him when Dean left with their order. "What is so funny this time?"

He grinned at her, and shook his head. "I am one of the richest wizards in England and you order one of the cheapest items on the menu," he said.

"I happen to _like_ what I ordered, thank you," she replied defensively.

Her response just seemed to amuse him more.

"What is 'the usual' then?" she shot at him, but he merely waved his hand at her, as if saying "that's not important."

They fell into silence, making her shift uncomfortably. How does one start a conversation with someone you never _had _a civil conversation with? When she looked at him, he was casually leaning back in his seat, staring out at the Quidditch pitch. The sight made her feel a twinge of annoyance. Why was _he_ so damn comfortable?

Minutes passed, and finally she couldn't take it anymore.

"Why did you bring me here?"

He shrugged in response, not taking his eyes off the practice.

She gave an annoyed sigh and stood up. "Fine. I'll just go then, shall I?"

At last, he looked at her, fixing her with an expressionless stare. "Sit down, Granger." He nodded at her empty chair for emphasis.

"I am not a dog!" she exclaimed incredulously.

He just nodded his head to the side. "Our food is here."

Sure enough, Dean was walking towards them, floating a tray with their meal in front of him.

"Since I am the one paying for your meal, it would be rather _rude_ to walk out. Don't you think?"

Grudgingly, she sat back down and glared at him as their plates hovered off the tray and onto the table. Dean told them to call for him if they needed anything else, and left, throwing Hermione another inquisitive look.

With some reluctance, she took a bite of her panini, which was delicious. Looking up from her food, she saw Draco carefully cutting into his large seafood-stuff ravioli and fresh spring vegetables. That dish was clearly one of the more expensive ones in the restaurant. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, wondering if he ever did anything in moderation. From his expensive robes and buying his own bottle of whiskey at a bar, all the way to his large office and lunch, everything about Malfoy was excessive. She wasn't sure if it was to show off, or because he was so used to being wealthy, he simply didn't notice no normal person live the way he did.

After a few moments of pondering a possible conversation topic, she finally settled on something that would hopefully make him as uncomfortable as she currently was. It wasn't fair she was the only one feeling out of place.

"Was that your wife I saw earlier?"

He choked on his meal and took a large swing of wine (the most expensive available, of course). Well, she thought wryly, if she didn't make him uneasy, at least she succeeded in nearly killing him.

Far from being disconcerted, he looked at her in astonishment, not expecting her to bring up the subject of his wife.

"Unfortunately," he muttered, after recovering from his minor choking episode.

She looked at him curiously. Their marriage couldn't have been _that_ bad could it? Then again, she supposed if it was a good marriage, they wouldn't be getting a divorce. A messy one at that, according to him.

"What do you mean 'unfortunately'?" she asked.

Malfoy gave a dry smile. "She's trying to take the house _and_ my bloody Quidditch team. That brat probably couldn't tell the team she owns from the other, but because it's mine, she wants it."

Hermione let out a soft, "oh."

She watched him stab his zucchini with more force than was necessary. Part of her felt bad for him. He clearly worked very hard managing the team, it was almost unfair to have it taken away from him.

"Why...er...are you getting divorced, anyway?" she asked uncertainly. They were barely on friendly terms, she didn't want to get _too_ personal, but this was better than silence.

He shrugged. "Mutual agreement we would rather be at work than at home playing house." He made a face as if disgusted by the very notion.

"Then..." she paused, thinking for a moment. "I don't understand why you say the divorce is messy. If it's mutual then why is she trying to take away your house and Quidditch team?"

Malfoy gave a bark-like laugh that reminded her eerily of Sirius.

"Why?" he asked. "Because she _can_, Granger." He looked at her as if she had just asked a very stupid question. "Not everyone has your high and mighty moral values. Astoria..." he laughed again. "She gets as much out of anything and anyone she can. Friend or foe."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, feeling slightly offended he just made fun of her values. "They're not 'high and mighty,' Malfoy. It's just basic human decency," she said stiffly. "I expect your family skipped over that, did they? Stopped at 'you're better than everyone else'?"

She stared at him as he frowned. He didn't look angry. Instead, he seemed to be considering her, as if wondering whether her words had any merit.

Finally, he said, "Don't act as if you're any different."

"I do not-!"

"Telling me I think I'm better than everyone else, when there you sit with your pretty little words, looking at me like I'm nothing but a spoiled rich boy, skating his way through life. Don't tell me you're any different."

She opened her mouth to argue, but stopped, realizing he may not be completely wrong. She never thought of Malfoy as someone who had to work hard at anything. His father always seemed to solve any problems he had with money. Draco wants to be on the House Quidditch team, his father buys them brooms; he angers a hippogriff, his father tries to have it killed. He really couldn't blame her for her image of him. Of course, this was all years ago, and now, he seemed to be working hard just trying to keep his soon-to-be ex-wife from taking his Quidditch team; she couldn't imagine what it took to actually run the entire organization the rest of the time even without someone trying to steal it. Then there was their sixth year, and the year that should have marked their seventh. He may have been on the wrong side, but being under Voldemort's command had taken a toll on him. No matter what she thought of his past decisions, she knew he had a hard time.

"You're right," she said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Malfoy blinked, the response catching him by surprise. For the first time that day, he felt awkward.

They finished their meal, and left, still in an uncomfortable silence. Once on the sidewalk, Hermione spoke up.

"I'll help you..."

He gave her a confused look.

"I mean...I'll help you keep your team...if you want..." she trailed off, looking at him uncertainly.

He nearly fell over from shock. Hermione Granger was offering to help _him_. He almost disagreed at once. She had no business in his affairs, and for all he knew, she would make sure by the end of the divorce, he would not only lose the Falcon's, but he would be living in a box outside of the Ministry's employee entrance. Then again, he looked at her, this _was_ Hermione Granger. The best friend of famous Potter, and the girl who ran around school in their fourth year trying to get people to join that _spew_ thing for house-elves. If anyone could be trusted, it was probably her.

"Why?" he finally asked.

She shuffled her feet nervously. "Well...because..." she hesitated, before mumbling, "I'd like you to help me with something."

Now he raised an eyebrow at her. What could she _possibly_ want from him?

When he didn't say anything, she continued, "I-I need to move out of Ron's flat..." she trailed off, now looking very embarrassed.

Draco almost wanted to laugh at what she was asking him. Miraculously, he managed to keep a straight face and reply, "You want me to help you move out of Weasley's place?"

She nodded.

A snort of laughter managed to escape, before he said, "You don't have _any _of your myriad of friends to do this?" He knew Hermione had numerous friends that would help her.

"Harry is going to Quidditch tonight with Ron, and Ginny is seven months pregnant. And with this much short notice it would be hard to get anyone...not to mention...word hasn't exactly spread..." she mumbled the last part.

He stared at her, hardly believing she even considered asking his help. It made it hard to say no. Plus, he suppressed a wicked grin, it would _kill_ Weasley to know Draco Malfoy was in his apartment helping his ex-girlfriend move out.

"Deal."

Hermione looked at him. "Really?"

He nodded and checked his watch. "Come to my office at seven. I will be waiting." With that, he turned and walked back to his office, leaving Hermione staring after him, still in a mild state of shock.

–..-..-..-

Please Review!

A/N: I actually enjoyed this chapter, but I guess it only matters if you find it interesting :) Let me know, please! I can't improve without feedback~


	4. Chapter 4: A New Beginning

A/N: Thank you for the reviews! They make me smile :)

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

–..-..-Chapter 4-..-..-

"You actually _lived_ here?" Draco asked, looking around the small flat with a look of distaste.

Crookshanks, who sat perched on the couch, growled at him, as if insulted by the comment.

"This flat is perfectly fine," Hermione bit back, closing the door behind them, and picking up Crookshanks. He began to purr, but kept his eyes on Malfoy.

He frowned at her. "You can't be serious. This placed is the size of my _guest_ rooms."

"Has it occurred to you it's your guest rooms that are abnormal?"

"No."

She rolled her eyes and let Crookshanks drop to the floor. With Ron at the Quidditch match for another couple of hours, they had plenty of time to pack and get out before he returned home. He knew she was taking her things, but she left out the fact that Malfoy was with her.

The apartment was, admittedly, a bit ordinary, but for a couple of twenty-year-olds it was fine. It was certainly better than when she first moved in. Ron didn't bother to decorate the white walls with anything, and he had the same battered curtains that were in his room at the Burrow. When she moved in, she brought the curtains from her own apartment and put them up, added some paintings, and a handsome bookshelf. The brown couch and white tile kitchen were still a bit boring, but at least the curtains and paintings added color.

"Are these all your books, Granger?" Malfoy asked, staring at the large collection.

Having left the room for a moment, she didn't hear him. "What?"

He pointed at the bookshelf. "I asked if these were all yours."

"Oh. No of course no," she replied, distracted with separating a few boxes. "There's another in the bedroom, and at my parent's home."

He stared at her as if she wasn't human. There had to be over a hundred books on that shelf!

"You can pack up my books," she said, throwing a box at him. He barely managed to catch it before it smacked him in the face.

Setting it on the floor, and taking out his wand, a sudden thought hit him. "Can't you pack all this with magic? It can't take _that_ long for one person."

She responded by narrowing her eyes at him. "Draco Malfoy, if you even think of trying to pack my books with magic, I will hex you into next week!"

"You expect me to pack all those bloody books by hand?" he asked incredulously.

"Those books have been meticulously organized based on author and subject matter. I will _not _ allow the order to be compromised because you carelessly whipped them off the shelves with magic!" she shot back.

Malfoy was staring at her, as if she was completely out of her mind. He wanted to argue, but the absurdity of her demand rendered him speechless. The only thing he managed to accomplish was a slightly horrified expression.

Apparently, she took his silence for compliance, and informed him she would be packing in the bedroom. Once she left, he turned to the bookshelf and gave it a hateful look, as if it was the one at fault for Hermione's bizarre request. He never would have agreed to this if he had known she would be forcing him to pack like a _muggle_. How humiliating.

He glanced behind him, checking to make sure she could not see him from the room, and pointed his wand at the first row of shelves. One by one, they floated gently into the box; not a single one out of order. When he moved onto the next shelf, he noticed a picture frame with a photo taken of Hermione and Ron, when they were still together. As the two in the image were stationary, it was obviously taken with a muggle camera. He studied it for a few moments, frowning. He never took photos like this with Astoria. Somehow, it all seemed so fake. Smiling like that, as if there was never an unhappy moment in the relationship.

He flicked his wand, and the frame went hurtling across the room, shattering on the opposite wall. "Whoops," he muttered, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

The sound caused Hermione to emerge from the bedroom, looking stricken. "What was that?"

He shrugged, and turned back to the books he was supposed to be packing by hand. "Nothing. Just the sound of something meeting its inevitable end."

"Malfoy, what did you do?"

By the tone of her voice, he knew she had seen the broken frame. Bracing himself, he turned to look at her. Sure enough, she was looking furious, holding the photo in her hand.

"What did you do to my picture?" she demanded, waving it at him.

He just looked at her. "I broke it."

"I can _see_ that!"

He shrugged again, and returned to his task. "Granger, if you're that upset about a broken photograph, maybe you should rethink your decision to leave." He dumped a few books carelessly into a box.

"You have no right-!"

She stopped, when he turned to look at her, looking as if she was going to smack him. Sighing, he pointed his wand at the broken glass on the floor and muttered, "_Reparo." _The shards immediately flew back together.

He looked back at her. "Happy?"

She didn't answer, and just continued to stare at him, the anger ebbing away and slowing being replaced by realization that he was right. However, she still looked torn between relief that the shattered frame was fixed, and the desired to destroy it along with the picture.

Finally coming up with a solution to her dilemma, she picked up the frame, and dumped both it and the photograph into a nearby empty box. He heard the glass shatter again.

"You have no right deciding what I can and cannot throw away," she said, the emptiness in her voice startling him. After that, she returned to the bedroom, leaving Malfoy standing in the middle of her sitting room, a bit irate.

He finished the rest of the bookshelf quickly, not bothering to make sure that each and every book made it neatly into the box in the proper order. He was too preoccupied thinking about Hermione and her contradicting behavior. It didn't make any sense to break up with someone and then act as though _she _was the one that was dumped. He just didn't understand it. Then, an idea struck him. Granger would probably kill him when she found out what he had planned, but, for reasons he couldn't explain, he wanted to help her move passed her failed relationship.

He entered the bedroom and barely managed to dodge being hit with a flying orange object that came hurtling out of the closet Hermione was clearly cleaning out. When it hit the wall and fell to the ground, he picked it up. It was an ugly orange cannon ball with _CHUDLEY CANNONS_ scrawled across the surface in black.

"Mind telling me why I was almost killed by this thing?" he asked, throwing the cannon ball onto the bed.

Hermione emerged from the closet, looking teary, but much to Draco's relief, she wasn't crying. "I'm cleaning my closet!" she snapped.

He glanced around at the room, and it looked as if instead of "cleaning" Hermione was just throwing objects into the room. Rather, it looked as if the closet had regurgitated its contents (most of which seemed to be photos, stuffed animals, and Chudley Cannon's memorabilia).

"I can see that..."

She glared at him, and threw the heavy leather-bound book she was holding. He moved to avoid it, but it ended up falling short in front of him. The impact made it open, and he could see it was a photo album with pictures of her and Weasley. There seemed to be a picture of Potter as well. Now, he understood what she was throwing around the room. For whatever reason, Hermione seemed to have actually listened to what he said, and was throwing out everything from her relationship with Weasley. Without a word, he left the room and returned with the box holding the frame. Pulling out his wand, he directed all of the items scattered around the room, into the box.

"_What_ are you doing?" Hermione asked, sounding as if she was ready to start yelling at him.

"Would you _like_ to leave Weasley's things strewn all over?" he replied.

"They are _my _things!"

"Fine," he corrected himself. "Then were you planning on leaving it all over the place? Because I can find a much better use for it."

She stared at him suspiciously, but he just smiled wickedly. "Finish packing and I will show you." He nudged the box with his foot. "Is this all?"

She nodded, still wary of his intentions.

"Excellent."

He picked up the photo album and placed it in another box, which seemed to be full of things she wanted to keep, then shrunk the box full of Ron and Hermione's relationship, and stuffed it into his robes.

Once that was finished, she allowed him to help her continue purging her closet. To his surprise, she had placed a rather extensive undetectable expansion charm, so it looked like a large walk-in. One side was clearly Weasley's, while the other was Granger's, and the back wall had yet another bookshelf overflowing with books. Apparently, that was where she stored books she rarely used, or only used once and ever opened again. When he suggested just getting rid of them, she dropped the heaviest book (_"A Complete Index of Magical Creatures: real and imaginary_") on his foot.

After much cursing, he emptied the rest of the shelf much the same way as the previous one, but this time, purposely making sure every book was out of order when it entered the box.

Hermione yelled and demanded he re-sort the books so they were in alphabetical order according to their author, but he just waved his wand and made a pile of bright orange bedding on Ron's side, to fall on her head.

When she emerged from the pile of sheets and pillows, Malfoy let out a small laugh, looking very pleased with himself. Her hair was standing up every which way, looking as if she had a very bad case of bed head.

She responded by chucking one of the pillows at him, hitting him square in the face. A smirk similar to the one he always gave her appeared on her face.

After staring at her with a mild look of shock, he smirked back. "Not bad, Granger," he tossed the pillow onto the pile of blankets, and noticed they were Chudley Cannons. Weasley was borderline obsessed with this team, he noted, somewhat disgusted. He could at least support a decent team if he was going to be that dedicated.

"Next time, please refrain from throwing any more Cannons rubbish at me. I would hate for it to rub off on my team," he finished.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she detached herself from the sheets. Despite his request to not have any more Cannon's things thrown at him, she thrust the comforter and sheets in his arms and told him to make the bed once she stripped off the current bedding. Now that she was leaving, she felt she should at least return his bed to its original state.

Malfoy made a lot of snide remarks as they made the bed, but she ignored them. Once the closet was finished, the rest of the apartment took no time at all, and once the last of Hermione's things was packed, they shrunk all the boxes and shoved them into the beaded purse she had used many years ago. Even Malfoy had to admit the purse was very clever.

Finally, she slowly removed her key to the flat from her key chain, and left it on the kitchen counter with a note to Ron (when Draco suggested she mention who helped her, she punched him hard on the arm). She grabbed the basket holding a grumpy Crookshanks. Then, at long last, they left.

Once on the sidewalk outside, Malfoy grabbed her elbow as she thanked him and tried to leave.

"One moment," he said.

She was giving him a politely confused look.

"I told you I would show you a better use for your pile of...er...memories?" he grinned, fixing her with a look that said she would regret not seeing what he had in store for her possessions.

He watched in amusement as she had a silent battle with herself. She was one of the most transparent people he ever knew. He could tell she was curious, but didn't want to be involved in something he had planned because, well, she simply didn't trust him. After a good, minute-long battle, she finally nodded, and they apparated.

They found themselves in the middle of the Falcon's practice pitch; the main building could be seen in the distance, with a few lights on. Other than the distant light of the office, the pitch was completely dark.

"_Lumos," _Hermione muttered, lighting her wand.

When he turned to look at her, she was staring at him warily, as if waiting for him to suddenly jump at her.

"What are we doing here?" she asked.

Instead of replying, he removed the box he shrunk earlier, from his robes, and placed it on the ground. Still not paying her any attention, he enlarged the box, then promptly set it on fire.

"Malfoy!"

He looked at her calmly, not bothered by her furious look.

"Put it out!" she demanded.

He just continued to look at her.

"Malfoy!"

"Do you trust me, Granger?" He asked, still feeling very calm.

She looked at him in surprise, taken aback by his question. "What?"

"Do you trust me?" he repeated, slowly, already knowing the answer.

"Of course not!" she said, her voice squeaking a bit. "Especially now that you've destroyed my things!"

He crossed his arms over his chest, and fixed her with a steady stare. It was hard to believe that between the two of them, Malfoy would ever be the rational one. "Yes, well then, I suggest you retract your offer to help."

She blinked.

"I have no business putting my trust in someone who does not offer me the same courtesy," he paused and smirked. "Or does that so-called "human decency" you call your almighty moral values really amount to a box of rubbish?"

The box crumbled, but Hermione paid it no notice as she stared at Malfoy. For the second time that night, her anger ebbed away, and she understood his point. She turned away, and watched the flames consume the box and everything inside, still a bit angry. "You didn't have to burn it."

He laughed. "Do you really believe keeping this box of garbage will make you feel better?"

She didn't respond, so he continued, sighing a bit, "Time to move on, Granger. If you help me, I'll help you."

She looked at him again. "What do you mean by that?"

By now, most of the box was gone, and the fire was beginning to die, so Draco conjured some wood to keep it going. The night was a bit chilly, and he had a feeling they weren't going anywhere very soon.

"If you help me keep my team, I'll..." he paused, and stared at the fire, thinking about how he was going to phrase the next sentence. He rarely offered help to _anyone, _let alone a girl he once called 'mudblood'. "I'll buy your drinks...when you feel like you need them..." he finished, sounding a bit awkward.

They stared at each other, before Hermione smiled and began laughing. He frowned at her.

"S-sorry," she laughed. "I'm not laughing at you," she was still smiling at him. "It's just..." she laughed again, apparently at a loss for words.

Unexpectedly, he found he was smiling a bit as well, and even let a small laugh escape, though he wasn't really sure why.

"Ok, deal," she said, still smiling. "I expect I will be needing many drinks if I am to be acting like your lawyer."

His eyebrows knitted together. "A what?"

"A _lawyer_," she repeated, a laugh once again on the edge of her voice. "Honestly, for all the time wizards spend looking down on muggles, they could actually learn from them."

He just stared at her.

"A lawyer is like your legal representative. They research the details of your case, present evidence to a judge, or in your case a Ministry official, and advise you on legal matters," she explained.

He laughed again, and shook his head. "Never change, do you, Granger?" he teased, looking back at the fire.

"What do you mean?"

"You sound like you've swallowed a book."

"Well _excuse me_," she huffed.

"It..." he hesitated a moment, "was a compliment," his voice was so quiet, she barely caught it.

Even without looking, he knew she was staring at him. His comment even caught him by surprise. In an effort to end the uncomfortable silence, he said, "What I _mean_ is it will come in handy. Astoria won't be able to get anywhere near my team," he gave an evil grin. "While we're at it, should we try the house as well?"

"Let's concentrate on the team for now," Hermione replied dryly.

He shrugged. "You're the...loyler?"

She laughed. "_Lawyer."_

"Right."

"Actually, this is a good opportunity for me," she said. "I've been studying magical law ever since I left Hogwarts, so I can learn how to create and repeal laws. Do you have any idea how little laws there are regarding the protection for magical creatures?" she began rambling. He had a feeling she went on this speech quite often.

"Not really..."

"It's _horrible_ the way wizards can treat house elves! And the centaurs! Just taking their land like that without giving them a chance to appeal the decision! It's so-" 

"Granger, no offense, but I only care about what you have to say in relation to Quidditch at the moment," he cut her off. Regardless, he was amused. She really hadn't changed since he last saw her at Hogwarts: always looking out for the little guy, as they say.

She gave him an indignant look, but didn't speak for the rest of the night, as they watched the last flame burn down to a glowing ember. Despite being enemies for many years, they somehow felt comfortable, as if in the years they spent building their own lives, they let go of the hostility that once put them on opposite sides. Or maybe drinking with another person really did create that so-called bond people talk about. Whatever the reason, when they went their separate ways that night, they were on the same side for the first time.

–..-..-..-..-

Reviews make me smile! :)


	5. Chapter 5: Not Quite a Friendship

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews!

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

–..-..-Chapter 5: Not Quite a Friendship-..-..-

"Malfoy, forget about the house!"

"It's my house, Granger!"

"Oh please, you can afford to buy ten houses!"

After a few weeks of working together, Hermione had managed to research enough on cases on Quidditch ownership and management to give Draco a very good chance of keeping his team. They had met with Astoria and a representative from both the Quidditch office, and Magical Contracts office in the Ministry. Hermione was not allowed in most of the discussions, but after arguing that there was no law preventing Draco to seek legal consultation, she was at least allowed in discussions regarding the legal matters of the divorce. In other words: meetings laying out Astoria's demands were strictly between Draco, Astoria, and the wizard from the contracts office. Meetings involving Draco's legal entitlements to certain properties allowed for either Astoria or Draco to seek help from one other party.

At first, Astoria found it amusing that Hermione became involved, but now, she was becoming a bit irate. She really wanted to take everything. Apparently, she took Draco bringing up the divorce first, as an insult. It made no difference to her that the decision was mutual.

Fortunately for Draco, Hermione had a talent for research and logical reasoning. With her help, he managed to convince the representative from the Quidditch office that the Department of Magical Games and Sports had an obligation to ensure the welfare of all Quidditch teams under its regulation. Draco was the youngest Quidditch owner in history, buying the team from the money his father originally planned to invest in a different business venture, and he already accomplished a great deal. The biggest, they pointed out, was sparking the small wizarding settlement that formed around the pitch. By allowing Astoria to take control of the team, they risked having one of the oldest teams in England dismantled, and an entire wizarding community out of work. With that hurtle cleared, the divorce should have been over a week ago. However, when Astoria mentioned their house elf, Jasmine, remaining under her ownership (Hermione remained quiet during these talks, but looked on disapprovingly, and lectured Malfoy afterward), Draco decided he wanted to keep the house as well.

Now, he and Hermione sat in his office, it was nearing midnight, and they were arguing furiously over the only thing keeping him from being free of his marriage.

"You only want that house because of Jasmine!" Hermione contested, aggravated at his stubbornness.

"She was given to me by my mother!" he retorted.

"She is not a possession! She is a living thing and deserves to be treated as such!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes, having already heard these rants one too many times. "Enough with your elf liberties nonsense. The fact is, if I don't keep the house, I don't get to keep my elf. It's _magical law_," he emphasized this point every time they began this argument. "The elf goes to the owner of the house it serves in."

"It wouldn't kill you to cook and clean like everyone else, you know," she retorted, as she usually did.

And he, as always, responded with, "In case you haven't noticed, I'm a bit preoccupied running a business."

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. She was tired, out of arguments, and fed up with having the same dispute for over a week. Malfoy was _never_ going to keep that house. Astoria already made her case that, as his wife, she was entitled to part of his assets. Since she had given up the Quidditch team, she got the house. Also, she pointed out her income was significantly less than Draco's; while he could afford another home, she had to use her money to run her fashion business ("fabric for the _highest quality _robes isn't cheap," she said). As the house was already fully paid for, Astoria would not have to sacrifice money she could use to expand her business, for a home.

Even Hermione knew it wasn't a very strong argument; Astoria could easily afford a home almost as nice as the one she and Draco were currently fighting over. However, as was almost always the case, the woman was given more sympathy than the man. It was just how things were, and would be for a long time; carry over from the times women didn't have wildly successful jobs.

"This is why muggles have prenuptial agreements," she muttered, slouching back in the couch. She felt like she could fall asleep in seconds.

Malfoy sighed, clearly tired as well. "What?" The tone of his voice made it very obvious they had been spending too much time together: he was already used to her referencing things he never heard of before.

"In the most basic sense, it is basically a document signed prior to marriage that allows you and whoever you are marrying to decide on things, such as the division of property, in the event of a divorce," she explained. "Of course, in England, they're not really considered legally valid, but one _can_ see why they exist."

Malfoy couldn't help but chuckle.

"What?" Hermione asked, turning her head ever so slightly so she could look at him. He had just fallen onto the couch next to her.

He shook his head, still smiling a bit. "You really don't realize that you sound like a walkng library, do you?"

"You asked," she replied, too exhausted to get defensive. "And may I remind you, this walking library helped you keep the Falcons."

He shrugged. "Then you can help me keep my house, as well."

At this, she rolled her eyes and stood up, not wanting to go over this again. "I already told you to forget it," she yawned. "Listen, you risk losing more than just your house if this drags on. If Astoria starts getting restless, she can ask for emotional damage compensation."

Malfoy scowled at the thought. They had already discussed that possibility weeks ago, when they went over all the conceivable ways Astoria could bleed him dry. He was surprised she hadn't at least threatened it yet.

"_Fine_," he muttered grudgingly.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. She should have played that card weeks ago.

With the clock ticking closer to 1 AM, they decided to meet again the next morning, before he had to meet with Astoria.

It was so late when she returned to Harry's, she was surprised to see him sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, and a long roll of parchment in front of him. He was dressed for bed, but looked as if he had been up for some time.

"Harry?"

Looking up from the parchment, he gave her a small smile, but she could tell something was bothering him.

"Long night?" he asked.

She nodded and flung herself into the chair across the table from him. "I wasted a _week_ fighting with that prat about his house and all I had to mention was financial compensation for emotional distress," she complained, making Harry laugh a bit.

He knew she was helping Malfoy with his divorce. At first, he was skeptical, and not very happy with the decision, but Hermione always had a strong desire to help anyone who needed it. Friend or one-time enemy; human or non-human. Whatever was fair and just, Hermione stood for it. He was trying to be supportive of her decision to break up with Ron, and help Malfoy, but there was still a part of him that was troubled by it. Try as he might, he was still unable to completely forget the animosity between them at school.

"Malfoy finally caved?" he asked.

"Yes," she sighed, sounding ready to fall asleep. There was a short silence, before she asked, "What are you doing up?"

Harry shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

"You weren't waiting for me, were you?" she sounded almost accusatory.

He nodded, deciding not to deny it.

"Why?"

He gave her a look that said it should have been obvious, but he sighed and replied, "I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You've been coming home later every night."

"Are you my father now?" she asked testily.

He threw her a look, and she apologized.

"I just think you need to be careful around Malfoy, even if you're helping him-"

"What?" she laughed. "Do you think he's going to suddenly jump on me or something?"

Harry was shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "No, it's not that..."

When she have him a disbelieving look, he said, "Really! That's not it. If he was going to do that, he could have that night he brought you back here."

"So what is it then?"

He hesitated, but finally said, "It's...well, I wonder if this thing with Malfoy isn't just to keep you distracted from thinking about Ron."

"Meaning?" she asked stiffly, now feeling a bit more awake. Harry was treading in very dangerous waters at the moment.

"Hermione, it's been _weeks_, and you haven't spoked so much as a few words to him, but you spend half your time with Malfoy," he replied, trying to sound reasonable. And Hermione had to admit, painful as it was, he had a point.

However, instead of conceding, she just became irritated. "Are you suggesting I stop helping Malfoy?" she bit back. "And may I remind you, Ron hasn't exactly gone out of his way to talk to me either."

It was as if Harry expected this reaction, because he sighed. "Of _course _not," he said, suddenly sounding very tired. "But if Ron finds out-"

"Let him!" she interrupted furiously. "I never told you to keep it from him!"

Harry was now looking at her imploringly. "Hermione, you _have_ to understand how this would look to him!"

She gave a mirthless laugh. "How _does_ it look, may I ask?"

He shifted awkwardly again.

She had a good idea what her friend was thinking, but wanted him to voice it, having no intention of putting ideas in his head. She was doing absolutely nothing wrong in helping Malfoy. If Ron or Harry took issue with it, that was their problem. Vaguely, she thought about what Harry would think if she told him Malfoy had been the most helpful in helping her get over the break-up.

"You know what I mean."

"No. I don't."

They stared at each other, Harry looking as if he was silently pleading with her to not force him to say what was on his mind. Meanwhile, Hermione narrowed her eyes, silently telling him to spit it out.

At last, he gave in. "It looks like you've been sneaking around behind his back." He gave her a very apologetic look, letting her know he didn't believe a word of it. He knew her better than that.

Somehow, that look managed to keep away most of the anger. Knowing Harry never doubted her loyalty to Ron, even while she struggled with her feelings for a year, made her feel a great amount of affection towards him.

Nevertheless, there was still a tinge of annoyance. "Yes, well, I wasn't. And quite frankly, neither you nor Ron have any right telling me who I can and cannot see."

This made Harry look very abashed, because he knew she was right. She knew he had her best interest in mind, but hinting he was worried there may be something going on between her and Malfoy struck a very unpleasant chord. It was true, over the past several weeks, she had learned Malfoy had changed. He was still arrogant, rude, and selfish, but, as she observed on many occasions, much more mature. She remembered commenting one night that _never_ would she have imagined the great pureblooded Draco Malfoy asking the mudblood Granger for help. Without even looking up from his parchment, he had said, "Don't call yourself that." His voice was quiet, and neutral, but the comment had made her notice how different he really was.

Setting aside the change (or maybe this was also new), he was oddly very gentlemanly. He kept his word and always bought drinks on those particularly hard days, when they _both_ needed a bottle of firewhiskey; she never paid for a meal with him; and he always let her through the door first. She was sure he didn't even notice the last part.

The biggest surprise was, he never said anything simply for the sake of saying it. There was always a reason. Sometimes it was to tease, other times he really made her think.

The point was, she found she actually enjoyed his company, but she never entertained the idea of _dating_ him. Under all of the good she had found, he was still Malfoy.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry finally said. "You're absolutely right."

The saddened tone made her feel a bit bad for her outburst. He was only trying to be a good friend.

"No," she gave a tired sigh. "I'm sorry, Harry. I understand. But don't worry, nothing is going to happen with Malfoy. We're just..." she paused, trying to think of _what_ Malfoy was exactly. Not a friend. Not an enemy, either. Acquaintances didn't seem quite right. "In similar situations at the moment," she finished. That was the best she could describe it; she and Malfoy just bonded over their failed relationships.

Just then, there was a loud knock on the door, as if whoever was on the other side was in a horrible temper and wanted to knock it down.

Harry and Hermione both rose slowly from their seats, wands already out. Before Harry could asked who it was, the person shouted, "Granger! Get out here!" It was Malfoy, and he sounded incredibly angry.

They shared perplexed looks as there was one loud pound on the door. It seemed he hit it one last time out of frustration.

When Hermione opened the door, it revealed a very irate Draco Malfoy. She barely opened her mouth to ask him what he was doing, when he began shouting angrily.

"That good-for-nothing bitch put defensive spells on my house!" he glared at Hermione, as if demanding her to fix it.

His appearance was so sudden, Hermione and Harry just blinked, still wondering what he was doing showing up in the early hours of the morning, shortly after parting ways with Hermione.

Regaining her senses, she asked, "What do you mean?"

"I can't get into my house!" he seethed. "Every time I try, it's like hitting a god damn wall!"

Harry was looking at him, shocked, but Hermione sighed for what felt like the millionth time that night.

"Harry, do you mind if he comes in?"

"Yeah...er...sure..." he replied, still trying to shake off the shock.

Without a word of thanks, Malfoy entered the house, only sparing Harry the smallest of glances. Hermione had a feeling he almost wanted to thank him, but caught himself at the last minute.

"_What_ is this all about?" she finally asked once they were in the sitting room.

Ginny was sleeping and they were surprised she didn't wake up from Malfoy's earlier banging and yelling. However, they didn't want to risk waking her up, so they used the living room and cast _muffliato_.

Hermione sat, but both Malfoy and Harry remained standing. Malfoy seemed too angry to sit and paced around the room in front of her, while Harry stood at the entrance, very still, with his arms crossed, watching.

"She locked me out of my house!" He raged again, now rounding on Hermione. "Granger, you are going to make sure she doesn't get a damn thing!" he returned to his pacing, growing under his breath, "How dare she even-"

"Malfoy..." she cut him off calmly, but there was an edge in her voice. She was really tired of having this discussion. Especially after he finally gave in. "We are _not_ going through this again-"

"She locked me out of my house!"

"I _know_," she said, exasperated. "You were going to leave anyway. The most we can do is have her lift the charm long enough to gather your things. If she refuses, then we can report her for theft."

Malfoy stopped pacing and stared at her. "There has to be _something_. She's doing this for a reason, Granger."

She nodded. "I agree, but-"

"Knowing her, she's going to say she was concerned for her _safety_," he continued, sounding disgusted.

Again, she nodded in agreement. From what he told her about Astoria, she was not above lying to get what she wanted. If painting Malfoy as a violent husband would get her the house (and maybe more), she would do it. The best they could do for the moment is put together something that would prepare them for any reason she gave for why she locked him out.

Turning to Harry, she asked, "Do you mind if he stayed for while? We have more work to do." She tried sounding as apologetic as she felt.

Harry frowned, but still nodded. "Fine." No matter his feelings toward Malfoy, Hermione was still his friend, and he found it hard to say no. "I'm going to bed, then. Just don't stay up all night, Hermione. And Malfoy..." he hesitated, reluctant to utter the next sentence, "You're...welcome to stay...if you need..." as expected, the offer was very awkward.

A look of shock passed over Malfoy's face, before he regained his composure, and fixed Harry with a haughty expression. Hermione had found out that was his "mask" he use to hide his real thoughts.

"How nice of you, Potter," he drawled. "But even being locked out of my own house couldn't get me to stay here."

Harry just shrugged in response, as if saying, "suit yourself." Bidding the two good night, he left.

Hermione sighed and looked at Malfoy. It was going to be a long night. 

–..-...-..-

Please review! :)


	6. Chapter 6: Unfaithful

A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! :D

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

–..-..-Chapter 6: Unfaithful-..-..-

The next morning, when Harry walked downstairs, he glanced into the sitting room and stopped as if he had run into an invisible wall, hardly believing his eyes. Hermione was slumped over the coffee table, using a stack of parchments for a pillow, and the couch throw as a blanket, while Malfoy lay on the couch behind her, fast asleep as well. A book lay on the floor as if it had dropped from his hand. Odd did not even begin to describe what he was seeing. He stood, debating silently with himself whether he should wake them, and eventually decided against it. It was a week day, so he and Hermione both had to go into the Ministry, but by the looks of it, Hermione had been up very late, so he didn't want to disturb her.

Leaving the two sleeping in the sitting room, he went to the kitchen to begin preparing breakfast. By the time the sausages, toast, eggs, and coffee were finished, Ginny walked in, looking thunderstruck; he knew at once she had seen Hermione and Malfoy.

Sure enough, she hissed, "What is Malfoy doing here?"

He placed a few eggs, sausages, and toast in front of her, along with some orange juice (she didn't care much for coffee). "He came last night," he explained, fixing himself a plate. "Apparently, his wife, Astoria, placed a charm on the house and he can't get in." A muscle twitched in the corner of his mouth as he struggled not to smile a bit. True, he felt a little sorry for Malfoy, but he couldn't help but feel a small bit of satisfaction knowing Malfoy's life was far from perfect. It was petty, but he gave himself credit for suppressing the smile.

Ginny, however, let out a snort of laughter, and couldn't help but smile. "I've heard about Astoria," she said, sounding amused. "She's quite nice so long as you stay on her good side, otherwise...well..." she waved carelessly in the direction of their sitting room. "She will clearly go to any lengths to get what she wants...I guess cursing her husband out of the house certainly ensures he can't have it."

"So glad you find my divorce _amusing_ Weasley...or it's _Potter_, now, isn't it?" Malfoy's voice came from the doorway. He was leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, looking quite at home in their house. That bothered Harry a lot more than he supposed was normal.

"You're looking rather..." Malfoy paused, scanning Ginny from head to toe, as if deciding the appropriate thing to say. By now, she was very far along in her pregnancy, and was due in about a month. "_Glowing_," he finished a bit sarcastically, with a smirk. After seeing the looks on the two Potter's faces, he wasn't about to try his luck with an insult. However, despite his efforts, he was met with two stony looks. He shrugged, as if saying "I was trying to be nice."

When they remained quiet, he continued.

"Nice place, Potter," he commented, looking casually around the room. "Right lot better than Weasley's."

There was a stunned silence, in which Ginny and Harry stared at Malfoy, as if he had just announced he was moving in.

"What did you say?" Harry asked.

"Nice place," he repeated, still smirking evilly. "Weasley's was cramped and could have passed for a Cannon's shrine."

Just then, Hermione walked in. She didn't hear what Malfoy said, and looked around the room. Upon seeing Harry and Ginny's shocked and angry expressions, she asked, "What's going on?"

"You let Malfoy into Ron's flat?" Harry practically yelled.

Hermione threw a very hostile look at Malfoy, who just shrugged again and continued to smirk. Turning back to her friend, she tried to look as apologetic as she felt, but her anger at Malfoy was making for a very odd expression. Every muscle in her face felt tight as she tried to fight the scowl and glare she longed to throw Malfoy's way.

"Harry, I'm sorry," she said, "But I had no one-"

"Ginny would have-!"

"Ginny has more than enough to worry about without having to help me move out of Ron's flat."

"I would have been happy to help, Hermione," Ginny said quietly.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, and looked guiltily at the floor. She couldn't tell them the real reason she wanted Malfoy to help. Luckily, and perhaps unexpectedly, Malfoy said it for her, sounding very nonchalant.

"Granger wanted someone to help that, to be quite honest, wouldn't try to make her change her mind _or_ take her on a very unpleasant guilt trip."

"You stay out of this, Malfoy!" Harry snapped.

Malfoy frowned, the old look of loathing beginning to return.

In an attempt to prevent a fight, Hermione said, "I'm _really_ sorry, Harry, I know it was stupid..."

Now, Malfoy was scowling, and turned to look at her. But, before he could say anything, she continued, "But..." she hesitated, looking more uncomfortable than ever. "He's not wrong. I didn't want someone trying to change my mind. And actually..." she glanced at Malfoy before looking away again. "He's...been...quite nice...about it all..." she mumbled the last part so it was barely audible.

Malfoy stopped scowling and allowed a faint look of shock to pass over her face, before looking smugly at Harry.

"Ron would go ballistic if he knew..." Harry gave Malfoy an unfriendly look.

"I know," she said. "_Please _don't tell him!"

Although Harry looked very unhappy about it, he assured her he had no intention of telling Ron. He may not like Malfoy, but he didn't want his best friend to end up in Azkaban for killing the Falcon's owner. He could see the headlines now: _Auror Murders Helpless Young Quidditch Owner_. No, Ron could definitely never find out.

"Breakfast is getting cold..." Ginny said, in a lame attempt the ease the tension, or just trying to change the subject.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, before turning to address Hermione. He still had to meet Astoria that morning at the Ministry. "At the very least she can't use my absence as an excuse. She's been arguing if I don't stay there it's hers," he told her.

After a few more brief words, he left, not bothering to speak to either Harry or Ginny.

It was a very tense, quiet breakfast, making Hermione wish she had left with Malfoy. Instead, she sat through Harry's stony silence, as Ginny tried forcing conversation. Both Harry and Hermione would answer as normally as possible, but the talking ended quickly, and they lapsed back into silence. After a few attempts, Ginny just gave up.

"Thank you for breakfast, Harry," Hermione said uncertainly, once she finished.

He replied with a non-committal grunt.

"I'll...go get dressed then..."

And she left.

It didn't take long for her to shower and dress before heading back downstairs. Ginny informed her Harry had already left, making Hermione's heart sink a little. Harry was rarely ever mad at her; it was always Ron who would find a reason to get angry.

"Don't worry," Ginny said reassuringly, giving a small smile. "I don't think he's that mad..."

She nodded, but still felt unconvinced as she disapparated.

Much to her relief, she made it to her cubicle without anyone stopping her for more than a polite, "good morning." It wasn't until she was halfway through her draft of a proposal for an elf representative in the Department that Ron turned up. He looked stiff and uneasy, but from the looks of it, Harry had kept his word.

"W-would you...er...like to go to lunch today?" he asked.

"Oh..." she shifted, feeling uncomfortable as well. They hadn't spoken since the day after the break-up. True, she hadn't tried contacting him, believing he would speak to her when he was ready, but she still felt like one wrong word would set him off.

"Yes.." she gave a nervous smile. Never did she think she would feel so ashamed in front of Ron. Even though Malfoy had been telling her for weeks there was nothing to feel sorry for, she still felt as if she had committed a horrible sin for hurting Ron. He had his flaws, and she was always mad at him for something, but he did love her.

"That would be nice," she finished.

Almost immediately, Ron seemed to relax, as if he was holding his breath without realizing, and finally let it out. "Brilliant. Is now okay? I heard Percy was looking for me again..." he grimaced, as if the thought of having to eat with his brother was worse torture than the cruciatus curse.

"Sure." She gathered up her elf proposal and placed it in the desk drawer she charmed to open only for her. She didn't expect anyone in the office to steal or sabotage it, but she still didn't want it sitting out in the open while she was gone.

"So...er...what were you working on?" Ron asked, as they entered the lift. It was full of other workers also heading for lunch, but no one paid them much attention as they entered.

"Oh, nothing much..." she answered, as the lift lurched. "How about you? I heard you found those wizards who were muggle-baiting."

"Yeah..."

They exited the lift on the entrance hall level, and decided to eat at the dining hall that was located within the Ministry. The weather that day was cold and rainy,and it seemed as though most of the workers had the same idea as Ron and Hermione to avoid it, because the hall was nearly bursting with people when they walked in.

"They were a couple of self-appointed vigilantes..." he continued, keen on keeping the conversation going. It was better than an awkward silence. "Thought they'd use muggles to lure in a couple of vampires and stake them."

"That's horrible!" Hermione exclaimed.

Ron nodded, as they paid for their lunches and found an empty table that luckily, had just been vacated moments before.

"The _Daily Prophet_ didn't saying anything about that..." she said.

"Hushed it up didn't they?" Ron said darkly. "I think our Department Head didn't want people getting ideas. It's not the first time we've had to deal with people trying to be Aurors or vampire hunters..."

"_Maybe_ if people tried to understand vampires more, we would have less of these incidents," Hermione said, frowning. She was very disapproving of how most wizards handled non-humans; even vampires, despite their tendency to suck people dry.

"Going to start a society for the Ethical Treatment of Vampires now?" Ron said, almost joking. He hadn't forgotten S.P.E.W.

"Ha ha," she replied dryly, taking a bite of her salad. "Just because they have a bad reputation doesn't mean they're all bad. Look at werewolves!"

"Yeah, but they're alive aren't they? They just turn furry once a month. Vampires are walking corpses," Ron argued back.

They spent the next few minutes amiably debating over whether or not vampires were worthy of more Ministry protection. It felt like old times, arguing over something without actually getting mad at each other. Hermione knew it was just a small step in repairing their friendship, but at least it was a start.

However, they were interrupted, when someone called her name from across the loud cafeteria. She and Ron both looked up and saw Astoria Malfoy walking towards them, smiling. Hermione's eyes widened. She had completely forgotten Astoria and Draco were at the Ministry, meeting with the official from the contracting division within the Minister's Department. She glanced quickly around for Draco, hoping he wasn't there; much to her relief, he wasn't. Ron, as far as she knew, had no idea she was helping him with his divorce.

"What a surprise!" Astoria said, once she reached their table. "I didn't expect to see you here! I only came to grab something quickly..." She was still smiling.

Despite being on opposite sides of the divorce, over the passed few weeks, Hermione learned, much to Draco's annoyance, that Astoria had taken a liking to her. Apparently, she admired Hermione's sense of justice and thought she was very clever. More than once, she invited Hermione to lunch or dinner, but Hermione politely declined, explaining it didn't seem right. Surprisingly, Astoria seemed to understand, and said they should eat together once the divorce was settled. As of yet, Hermione still hadn't given her a straight answer for that.

"H-hi, Astoria," she smiled back, but it was strained. She threw Ron a nervous glance. From the perplexed look, she knew she was right in her assumption that he had no idea about her involvement with Astoria and Draco.

"Draco and I just finished with our meeting."

"Oh...right..."

"You're Astoria Malfoy, right?" Ron cut in.

Astoria looked at him, as if just noticing he was there; and perhaps she hadn't noticed. Once she focused on something, she usually didn't see anything else. Hermione supposed that was also true in the literal sense: she saw Hermione and hadn't bothered to check if she was with anyone.

"Yes," Astoria answered. "You are...?" Her eyes fell on his red hair and her smile widened. "Oh! You're a Weasley?" She asked quite bluntly, some may even say it sounded rather rude, but Hermione knew better. Astoria rarely tried to be rude, but her words often came off that way.

Ron's ears turned pink, as he struggled not to scowl at the statement. "Ron."

"Nice to meet you," she replied politely, before turning back to Hermione, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry, Hermione, I didn't realize you were with someone."

Hermione gave her a disbelieving look. She hardly thought Astoria actually cared if she ever interrupted anyone. Whether the other woman didn't realize Hermione didn't believe her, or simply ignored the look, Hermione didn't know, but she was still smiling, as if they were friends who were catching up after not seeing each other.

"I _did_ want to talk to you though..."

"How do you know each other?" Ron interjected again.

"Oh, she didn't tell you?" Astoria turned to Ron again, looking genuinely surprised. "I thought you were close? Or am I thinking of another Weasley?"

Ron chose to ignore the last part, though his ears did turn from pink to red. "Tell me _what_?" He looked at Hermione, who very much wanted to sink into the floor.

"She's helping Draco try and keep his things," Astoria laughed. "I must admit, it has been both fun and frustrating. Clever girl, Hermione is, convincing the Head of Magical Games and Sports I would destroy the Falcons. But..." she let out a long, satisfied sigh. "I won the house."

"You what?" Hermione nearly yelled, unable to keep herself from jumping out of her seat. The fact that Ron now knew she was helping Malfoy, somehow paled in comparison to this news. She knew Astoria was going to get the house eventually, but she hoped with all the work she put in last night that she had bought enough time to calm Draco down enough to voluntarily relinquish the house. Now, Hermione had the feeling, the fight was not over. So far, Astoria had proven, the more Draco fought, the more she wanted to take.

Astoria nodded, no longer smiling. "That's why I wanted to talk to you." She looked back at Hermione.

"What about?" Hermione eyed her carefully.

"Well..." Astoria said slowly. "First, don't take it personally, Hermione. I really do like you, but...Draco has just been so stubborn about the house, so...well...when he said I locked him out last night..." she hesitated. For the first time, Hermione saw a look pass over her face that could have been guilt. She actually looked as if she was sorry for what she had done. "I said you two were having an affair."

"WHAT?" Hermione and Ron yelled at the same time. And now Ron had jumped out of his chair as well.

"Hermione, you and Malfoy-!"

"Of course not, Ron!" She snapped, looking very angry and horrified at the same time. She was angry at Astoria for lying, and horrified that Ron had to hear it.

"Astoria how _could_ you?"

"I told you it's nothing personal. I like you, but Draco was being so _stubborn_."

"You lied!" she exclaimed. "I'll have you know, when that Ministry official heard about this-!"

Astoria laughed, and shook her head. "Hermione, as much as I admire your honesty and sense of justice, it would do you well to understand you are very unique."

She pulled out an envelope and handed it to Hermione. Inside, were pictures. More specifically, pictures of Hermione and Draco in restaurants, entering the Falcon's office, and even the night she moved out of Ron's flat. Vaguely, she remembered Draco voicing his irritation over Astoria having him followed, but she never thought much of it, because she always met him either at his office or in a restaurant. Their meetings had always been purely business.

Unfortunately, however, the pictures mostly showed them smiling or laughing at something, making it look more like a date. Astoria was right. In this case, Hermione's assumption that people were as honest as she was, put her at a disadvantage. Somehow, she felt angry at herself; she should have seen this coming.

"I suppose Malfoy's word that these photos are all of business meetings wasn't taken seriously?" she asked evenly, keeping her temper in check, despite the strong desire to throw the pictures at Astoria and stalk up to the contracts division to give the official a piece of her mind.

Astoria smiled in response. "I didn't take much convincing. Mr. Gillis, the official, didn't seem to think divorce was something two people smiled about over dinner."

Ron picked up the photo of Hermione and Draco on the sidewalk outside of his flat. His fists tightening as he stared at it, crumpling the picture in the process. "This is my flat..." he said faintly, staring at Hermione. "You took him to _my_ flat!"

Hermione gave him a terrified look as he threw the crumpled the picture and stood, ready to storm off.

"Ron, wait!" she grabbed his arm to stop him. "It's not what it looks like!"

But he was staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. "What _does_ it look like, Hermione?" he asked furiously. "Because to me, it sure as hell looks like you've been sneaking around with that git!"

People were beginning to stare, and Hermione tried to pull him out of the dining hall, so they could find somewhere less public, but Ron wrenched his arm from her.

"He only helped me move out!" she tried explaining desperately. "I swear, we only just met after we broke up!"

"Yeah?" he gave her a look that clearly said he thought she was lying. "You know what I think? You ended it to be with _him_."

"No-!"

"No wonder you're helping that scumbag with his divorce!" he continued disdainfully. "You two planning to run away together?"

Tears were beginning to form in her eyes, as she hopelessly tried to make him see reason. "That's not-!"

"Forget it..." he sneered. "No wonder why you never tried working things out..." And he left.

Hermione now had tears rolling down her face as she watched him disappear.

Astoria was looking shocked. "Oh...no..." she tried to put a hand on Hermione's shoulder,but Hermione shrugged it off and glared at her.

"Why did you have to do that?" she nearly yelled.

"I'm sorry!" Astoria truly looked as though she meant it. "I had no idea-"

"Yes...well, maybe you should think of others before yourself for once!" she said angrily, leaving as well.

There was only one person she wanted to see at the moment. She just hoped he was back in his office by now.

–..-..-..-..-

Please Review! :)

Looking forward to writing the next chapter :)


	7. Chapter 7: Scandals

A/N: Thank you for the wonderful reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

–..-..-Chapter 7: Scandals-..-..-

Hermione walked quickly as she could out of the dining hall and into the main entrance. She still had work to do, but it could wait. Right now, she needed someone to yell at, and Malfoy was very good at listening to her yell. It was one of the reasons she came to enjoy his company.

As she made her way to the apparation point, there was a huge commotion near the lifts. It didn't seem to have anything to do with her, so she ignored the crowd of people all bustling to see what was happening. Just as she pushed passed a rather large man, she heard Ron's voice.

"We should have left you in the Room of Requirement, you know that?" she heard him yell.

Sighing, she started pushing her way towards the lifts to see who he was yelling at. When she was finally able to break free of the throng of on-lookers, she saw Ron being held back by two wizards and glaring ahead of him. She followed his gaze and let out a soft gasp of surprise. Malfoy was leaning on shoulder against the nearest wall, sporting a bloody lip. Miraculously, he was still managing to smirk at Ron, who Hermione was sure would have given him more than a bloody lip if the two wizards hadn't been holding him back.

"What's going on?" she rushed forward to stand next to Malfoy, checking to see if Ron had perhaps given him more than just a bloody lip. From the looks of it, he hadn't.

Draco wiped the blood with his thumb, and stood a bit straighter while still remaining against the wall. "Weasley came after me."

"You snaked my girlfriend you good-for-nothing git!" Ron fumed, struggling to free himself from his captures.

"Ron!" Hermione shouted, still very aware of the amount of people watching them.

"True isn't it?" he rounded on her. "I saw you just now! Running to his side all because of a bloody lip!"

Draco let out a derisive laugh. "As usual Weasley your brilliant mind has arrived at a rather ridiculous conclusion. It's a wonder you ever became an Auror. I suppose Potter cleans up most of your messes?"

"Malfoy!" Hermione yelled. Ron strained harder against the two wizards.

"Just became chummy over night then did you?" he growled.

Just as Hermione opened her mouth to retort, she stopped. Malfoy was laughing as if Ron had told a highly amusing joke. When he looked at Ron, he was smiling, the amusement still sparkling in his eyes even though he was no longer laughing.

"You're thicker than you look, Weasley," he said, laughing again as he pushed himself off the wall to walk towards Ron, so that he was now barely out of arms reach. "Do you really think it would take me a whole year to steal Granger from you?" He smiled evilly at Ron.

"MALFOY!" Hermione yelled, as Ron nearly managed to throw off his captors. Luckily for Malfoy, they managed to hold on land drag Ron a few feet away from Malfoy.

"Really, Weasley," Malfoy continued, as if nothing had happened, the evil smirk ever more prominent. "Are you really so dim to think Granger would cheat? Even on the likes of you?" Slowly, the smile and amusement slid from his face, and he was fixing Ron with a more serious stare. A few of the bystanders shifted, as if they were considering holding back Malfoy in case he decided to jump Ron. However, they thought better of it. Malfoy's calmness was much more intimidating than Ron's explosive temper.

"That's _enough_, Malfoy," Hermione said firmly, giving him a very angry look.

He stared back at her for a few moments before grabbing her wrist and dragging her through the crowd, which seemed to part automatically.

"What are you doing?" she protested loudly, trying to wrench her arm out of his grip. It didn't do much good; he was much stronger than her and had a very firm grip on her arm. "Let me go!" she tried pulling away again. "_Draco!"_

At the mention of his name, he finally stopped, and looked at her. They were near the apparation points, where the crowd was significantly smaller.

"_What_ are you doing?" she asked again.

He pointed over her shoulder. When she turned around to see what he was pointing at, she saw two security wizards pushing their way through the slowly dispersing crowd, towards Ron. "Didn't want to get in trouble," he said, sounding almost as if he was making a joke.

She looked back at him, and he was smirking. Apparently he _was_ joking, but that didn't keep her from being irritated at him. Not only had he provoked Ron, but he had left him to deal with security, _and_ took Hermione with him. In her mind, that was three strikes, and that meant, she was sure Malfoy was going to get a whole lots worse than a bloody lip next time he crossed paths with Ron. Part of her wanted to let Ron have at it. Malfoy was turning his pain into sport.

"You shouldn't have said those things," she told him disapprovingly, taking back her wrist.

He shrugged. Malfoy never _did_ seem to care much about what he said to people, she thought to herself. It was one of those things she both loathed and liked about him. At the moment, she was leaning towards loathing.

"Don't you shrug at me!" she snapped. "He may have hit you, but you have no place telling him those things!"

"The truth hurts, Granger," he replied. She glared at him, but he ignored it. "Lunch?" he asked lightly.

"Already ate," she replied stiffly, turning to go back to her office. After seeing him taunt Ron, she felt like hitting him as well.

"I haven't." He stood in front of her so he was blocking her escape.

Much to her annoyance, he was still smirking. It was like a permanent fixture on his face today.

"Then eat by yourself," she replied sourly, trying to force her way passed him, but to no avail. He simply grabbed her by the arm again.

"I'll tell you what Astoria said today..."

She gave him an unfriendly look, not completely trusting him. She wouldn't put it passed him to lie just to get his way. "Why don't you tell me now?"

"Then I would have no one to eat lunch with," he replied.

She really wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face. But, instead, for whatever reason, she decided to join him. He took her to the small sandwich shop in muggle London that she and Harry often ate at. It wasn't until they placed their orders that Draco realized he had no muggle money. After a good, long argument that lead to many of the busy customers giving them impatient looks, Draco finally allowed Hermione to buy his lunch. As she only ordered tea for herself, the argument took longer than the actual food preparation.

Draco was sitting silently, brooding over his sandwich as Hermione sipped her tea and teased him. It was the first time since they had been meeting that she had to pay for a meal. Draco always picked up the bill.

"Just because you didn't buy it doesn't mean you shouldn't eat it," she said, watching him with an amused expression, her earlier annoyance fading away.

He looked at her, scowled, then took a bite. When he didn't make a face, she continued, "So..." she sipped her tea. "Besides accusing you of adultery-"

She was interrupted with Draco choking on his food. He managed to recover quickly and look up at her, his eyes watering a bit. "W-what?" he coughed again and took a gulp of tea. "Is _that_ why Weasley attacked me?"

"He only punched you..." she replied dryly. "And quite frankly after what you said-"

"Granger, come off it," he cut her off, waving his hand at her, as he always did when something he deemed unimportant was just said. "If he really believes you would cheat on him you're better off without him-"

"That's not-!"

"What?" he cut in. "Not true? Not the point? Come on, Granger, even I know, pathetic as Weasley is, you would never cheat on him."

Struck by the sudden statement, Hermione felt her cheeks go slightly pink. Somehow, even coming from Malfoy, knowing her honesty and integrity were not in question from someone other than Harry, meant a great deal. It made Ron's accusations seem less upsetting.

"If you ask me," he continued. "If he's so determined to believe you're sneaking around, just give him what he wants...it's a right lot easier than denying it."

She gave him a horrified look, the feelings of appreciation disappearing in an instant. "What?"

"You heard me. Just tell him you've been sneaking around with me, or whoever you choose, and let him believe what he wants...after those pictures Astoria I am sure showed you, it wouldn't be hard to make it believable." He was giving her a mischievous look, as if he were imagining all the different ways he could torment Ron by pretending to have an affair with Hermione.

"Are you mad?" she nearly yelled, causing several patrons to look at her reprovingly. She gave them an apologetic look, and turned back to Malfoy, glaring.

He just shrugged at her. "Not as mad as you for dating that guy for six years, I'm sure of that."

"There is nothing wrong with Ron!"

"Ah right, I didn't realize being a jealous possessive prat was a desirable trait," he replied sarcastically, sounding every bit of condescending as she knew he meant to be.

At this, she stood up very quickly, her tea already cold and long forgotten. She was giving him a furious look, but he just stared back.

"As much as I hate Potter, I will tell you this much, he's about twice the friend Weasley has ever been, or has he started accusing you of adultery too?" he asked.

"Harry has never-!" she stopped, angry at herself, for realizing Malfoy was actually right about Ron. He wasn't a bad person, but the jealousy and possessiveness were two traits that were very tiring after a while.

"You never were as clever when it comes to matters not found in your books," he sighed, motioning for her to sit back down, which she did, albeit grudgingly.

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

He just shrugged, which didn't help her mood. She was angry again. Angry at Ron for thinking she would ever cheat on him, and angry at Malfoy for being the one to point out that Ron was being a jealous git.

"Come to my office tonight," he said, making her look at him suspiciously. "Astoria decided she wants half of my inheritance now," he scowled. "_Emotional damage compensation_ for being cheated on."

"Fine." Angry or not, she did agree to help him with the divorce. Not that she was particularly happy with him at the moment, nor did she like the idea of being seen at his office so soon after being accused of an affair. However, the idea of being interrogated by Harry when she returned home, kept her from refusing. She was sure Ron had already told Harry everything by now. In fact, as she made her way back to the Ministry, and returned to her office, she fully expected to see Harry waiting for her at her cubicle, ready to give her the third degree. Much to her relief, he was not.

The rest of the day, she tried to continue working on her elf proposal, but couldn't seem to concentrate. She tried putting it away to work on another report dealing with a Japanese water demon that was illegally smuggled into the country, but found she couldn't concentrate on _that_ either. In the end, she ended up staring, defeated, at her elf proposal. It seemed as if the clocks were running at half-speed, and by the time it was ready to meet Malfoy at six o'clock, she was ready for a drink, or several. Maybe if she found a way to end the whole divorce by tonight, she would never have to see Malfoy _or_ Astoria again; it would certainly make her life much simpler. She gave a sardonic smile. Never see Malfoy again? Even she had to admit, that probably wouldn't be possible. She enjoyed his company more than she wished she did, but denying it was pointless. Plus, without Malfoy, she had no one to rant to. In due time, Harry and Ginny would be busy with the baby, she didn't see Ron speaking to her any time soon, and everyone else had better things to do than listen to her problems.

With these things in mind, she left for the Falcon's headquarters, feeling no better than she had at lunch. The rainy weather that seemed to be covering all of England today, didn't help much. When she arrived inside, she noticed the first floor seemed unusually crowded for that time of night. There were several reporters milling around, as if waiting for someone. A player, most likely. She ignored them as she usually did when there were reporters around, and made her way to the lifts. Coming in and out of the office so often, she became accustomed to players and reporters roaming the building. She was not, however, used to the stares she was currently receiving. Just as a few reporter began walking towards her, the lift arrived, and she got in quickly. Thankful that the gate shut and the lift jerked upward before any of them could get close. They had that "potential scandal" look.

The situation on the third floor was no better. As soon as she stepped out of the lift, a bright flash temporarily blinded her, just as she was able to make out a few figures amid the bright dots still obscuring her vision, there was another flash, and she was blinded again. She heard a series of other flashes, before she finally stuck her arm in front of her eyes in an attempt to regain her vision before she became completely blind. After a few moments, she was able to squint passed the lights, and saw the flashes were coming from only two photographers. With the furiousness in which they were snapping shots, there may as well have been fifty.

"Is this her?" A woman asked excitedly, as Hermione made it passed the photographers.

"Is this the girl?" another asked.

She heard another witch say, "Mistress of Falcon's Owner Revealed! Sounds like a promising headline, don't you think, Frank?"

The photographer closest to Hermione, with a bushy ginger beard and grizzly hair, nodded enthusiastically, and took another picture.

She stared around the room. There were about six reporters, all standing, looking excitedly at her, as if Christmas had come early and she was here to deliver the presents. Malfoy was no where in sight.

"Um..." she spoke uncertainly, very aware that they seemed to be hanging on every word. "W-what's-?"

"Don't say anything, Granger," Malfoy appeared behind her.

More flashes from the two photographers came, even longer, and more furiously than before, as if any second missed was a story lost. Malfoy's appearance seemed to have made the reporters beside themselves with excitement.

"Mr. Malfoy, what do you have to say about the pictures sent to the _Evening Prophet_?" The closest witch asked, her quill poised for jotting notes.

Malfoy didn't answer, and instead grabbed Hermione around the elbow, dragging her back to the lifts.

"How is your wife taking the news?"

"Does this in any way effect your divorce?"

Hermione fought the urge to turn around and tell them to shut it, and go find _important_ news to report. However, before she could, Draco pulled her into the still open lift, and punched the button for the basement. The players dressing room was there, as well as a state-of-the art medical wing, work out area, and offices for equipment staff, coaches, and managers. It was also off limits to the media. Any reporter who managed to sneak their way down there would find themselves greeted by a very intimidating security wizard, whose desk sat right next to the lift, waiting for unwelcome intruders.

"What's going on?" she demanded as they exited the lift, ignoring the leer from the burly security guard. "Why are there reporters everywhere?"

"C'mon..." he replied, gesturing her to follow him. "This way goes to the pitch..."

He lead her down a wide, brightly lit hallway, lined with Falcon's memorabilia dating all the way back to the year they were founded. There were doors leading to various rooms and two hallways branching off the main one. Draco took her down the corridor on the right, and, despite the darkness outside, Hermione could see the Quidditch pitch just outside the glass doors at the end of the hall. It was still raining, and she gave Malfoy a quizzical look, wondering if hew was really planning on making her stand outside in the rain.

He apparently understood her apprehension, because he said, "We can't apparate in the building. It keeps fans and reporters from barging into the office and dressing room."

She let out a small "oh" of understanding. "Where, may I ask, are we supposed to be going, then? And why are we being forced to go there in the first place?"

"You'll see..." he replied shortly, grabbing her arm again, before pulling her outside and disapparating.

They now stood inside a spacious sitting room that overlooked the River Fal. Hermione could see lights from fisherman boats and ferries. Even with the dreary weather, the view was quite beautiful.

"What is this place?"

"My second home."

She gaped at him as he strode across the room into the adjoining kitchen, which was just as glamorous was the sitting room. It, like the rest of the house, was very modernly decorated, with black cabinets and glass counter-tops. The round dining table was also glass, and surrounded by four black chairs. The whole look of the kitchen contrasted quite nicely with the brown and white sitting room. She notices the wide stairs leading to the second floor were also white, and very simple, with no fancy design or cut.

"You didn't tell me you had a second house!" she exclaimed.

Malfoy shrugged as he pulled out a few pots and pans, then proceeded to the pantry to retrieve a can of tomato sauce, and a large, hand-made Italian jar he used to keep spaghetti noodles. "Dinner?" He asked, holding up the tomato jar.

"You made all that fuss about losing your house to Astoria when you already had this one?" she rounded on him angrily, ignoring his question. They had just wasted _weeks_ arguing pointlessly over his main residence, when the entire time, he had a second home. "And _why_ didn't you tell me about this place?"

"I _told_ you. Jasmine only serves the owner of the main house," Malfoy replied carelessly, now pouring the sauce in a pan and setting it on the stove. He prodded the burner with his wand, and a fire burst to life. It took a few curses and prods before Malfoy was able to lower the flame to a reasonable level.

"And I told _you_ to free her! Then you could have _properly_ employed-"

"A free house elf is considered a disgrace and will not go back to work for the wizard who freed it," he replied, now pulling a package of ready-made meatballs from the small ice box Hermione thought had just been another cabinet. "And as I told _you_, house elves don't _want_ to be paid."

"Dobby-!"

"Was a complete nutter," he finished, dumping the meatballs into the sauce and covering it.

She glared at him, but he just stared blankly back, leaning against the counter, with his arms crossed.

"We didn't come here to argue about house elves, Granger," he reminded her.

The reporters from earlier flashed across her mind, as she remembered why she was forced to come here. Her expression must have reflected this, because Malfoy smirked and pushed off the counter to grab the _Evening Prophet_ laying on the kitchen table. Wordlessly, he tossed the paper at her.

She didn't have to flip through to find what she needed to needed. It wasn't front page news, but Malfoy had left it open on the article that was located in the gossip column. The article, titled, "Young _Falcon's Owner's Scandalous Dilemma,"_ was relatively small, but the picture of her and Malfoy sitting across each other at a restaurant covered half the page. It was little consolation to her that her face had been blurred out. It read:

_ Draco Malfoy, 23, young, handsome, owner of the Falmouth Falcon's Quidditch team, has seen his share of publicity in recent years, as the youngest Quidditch owner in known history. However, even the young owner seems to have his own closet of skeletons (not including, of course, his family's association with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) that has been fully revealed by a source who wishes to remain anonymous. While Mr. Malfoy appears a responsible young man, focused on bringing a dwindling franchise back to its glory days, his personal troubles beyond the Quidditch pitch seem to have some asking whether he is indeed the right man for the job. "He is currently going through a rather nasty divorce with his wife, [Astoria], at the moment..." one staff member comments. When asked whether this was a distraction for Mr. Malfoy, the staff member declined to comment. The untimely demise of the young couple's marriage did not come as a surprise to many. In fact, it is well known that Astoria Malfoy (formally Greengrass), 21, has recently launched a high-end robe business that deals in only the finest quality fabrics and latest styles. Those closest to the Malfoy's speculated it was the demanding jobs of the two young entrepreneurs that lead to their separation, but now, the real reason seems to have come forward. Mr. Malfoy has reportedly been seen frequently in the company of a young brunette woman. Could this be the true reason behind the divorce? Rumors that the illicit couple were once classmates at Hogwarts have yet to be confirmed._

By the end of the article, Hermione found herself gripping the edges of the paper so that it was nearly tearing. "What is this rubbish?" she seethed, throwing the paper on the table angrily. "And I'd like to know where they got those photos!"

"Isn't it obvious?" Malfoy asked, much calmer than she thought was appropriate.

"Astoria would have nothing to gain by doing this!" She snapped impatiently.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I know. I talked to her shortly after the article was released. She nearly destroyed the new robes she was making, she was so angry." He appeared amused at the last part.

"So who _would_?" she asked.

He shrugged and moved to stir the sauce to keep it from burning. "Probably whoever was following me. We may be picking pieces of him off the sidewalk once Astoria's gotten through with him." Again, there was an air of amusement as he spoke. Hermione couldn't find the humor in the situation.

She watched as he filled the larger pot with water, and placed it on the stove, this time successfully creating the correct sized flame. He could have made the water boil instantly with a simple spell, but he either didn't know it, or wanted to give the sauce more time to cook.

When he was finished, he turned back to look at her. "Astoria_ has_ decided to drop the inheritance nonsense, though. Said with this article, she wants nothing more to do with the divorce." he nodded at a stack of parchments sitting on the island counter. "Practically threw the divorce finalization at me."

Hermione gave him a wide-eyed look of surprise, and quickly grabbed the papers to read them over. Sure enough, all that was needed was his signature, and he would officially be divorced. "That's great, Draco!" she said, turning to him, smiling.

He did not smile back, but instead, sighed in a tired sort of way. "Yeah. We're heading to the Ministry tomorrow..." He looked relieved, but the tired look never disappeared. Once again, Hermione was struck by the maturity he never seemed to have in school. Then again, she reminded herself, running a Quidditch team and constantly worrying about players, staff, and reporters, he probably _had_ to mature a bit. If he was the selfish little snot he was in school, his team would not be nearly as successful. Not to mention, dealing with the aftermath of Voldemort wasn't easy. She remembered all the criticisms the Malfoy's faced once the Death Eaters and other Voldemort supporters were being rounded up and tried. Harry had managed to convince the Wizengamot to keep Draco and his mother from going to Azkaban, but, as she understood it, Lucius still had a few more years to serve. She had a feeling Draco had no idea Harry was the reason he was not currently sitting a cell with his father.

"What?" Malfoy's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. He was giving her a curious look. She was staring at him without even realizing it.

"Huh?"

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Suddenly taken with my irresistible charm?" he asked sarcastically, grinning at her. "I always heard women get all soppy over a man that cooks," he teased, making her flush.

"W-what?" she let out a forced laugh. "Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy!" she was glad her voice sounded as it used to when she would speak to him at school.

"It's okay," he continued, grinning even more broadly, as if he were on the verge of laughter. "After Weasley, I wouldn't blame you. You're just moving onto better things."

"I was not staring!"

Malfoy started laughing. It was that uncharacteristic boyish laugh she involuntarily found herself liking. 

"What?" she demanded.

He just continued to laugh, making her feeling very frustrated. At last, he managed to regain control. "I never said you were _staring_." And he was laughing again, causing her to turn a deep shade of pink, and glare at him. She hated, _hated, _that Draco Malfoy, of all people, could make her feel so embarrassed.

"Might I remind you, there's a hoard of reporters in your office trying to follow up on this ridiculous story?" she asked loftily, jabbing her finger at the newspaper.

But Malfoy merely waved his hand at her. "If we do or say anything, it will only get worse." He stirred the sauce again, before tossing a handful of noodles in the now boiling water. "I thought you would know that by now, being Potter's friend."

He had a point. Not that it made her feel any better about the situation. "Ron-"

"Gets what he wants, doesn't he?" he raised an eyebrow at her. "Face it, Granger, it doesn't matter what the _Daily Prophet_ writes, until you go crawling back to Weasley, he would rather believe you're a lying, cheating, harlot."

She stared at him, feeling both upset, and taken aback that the word "harlot" actually came from Malfoy's mouth. Somehow, the term seemed a bit old fashioned, coming from him. However, once again, he _did_ have a point. And again, it didn't make her feel much better. In her mind, Ron was perfectly entitled to be upset with her. After all, the break up was a shock to everyone but her. She didn't even think Ron was completely wrong to suspect her relationship with Malfoy; they _were_ spending an unusual amount of time together. She just wished he would let her explain before storming off and turning her into some kind of villain.

She was too preoccupied with her thoughts to notice Malfoy draining the spaghetti noodles, dumping them in a bowl, and setting them on the table, before doing the same with the sauce. That he put the sauce in a bowl instead of leaving it in the pot, was another one of those signs of his upbringing: it was improper to place pots and pans on the dining table. It was an old fashioned kind of etiquette, but he didn't seem to even think about what he was doing, as he also pulled one of his favorite wines from the wine cabinet, and poured it into the decanter he always kept out on the counter. Some may think he was trying to impress her, but she knew better; this was just how Draco was. Whether or not he used the decanter when he was alone, she wasn't sure, but she knew he would have done the same even if Harry were the one visiting.

"Not staring again?" he asked, handing her a glass of wine, and taking a seat at the table. He was smirking at her again.

"_Thinking_," she corrected sternly, also taking a seat.

He motioned for her to help herself first, which she did with surprising enthusiasm. She hadn't realized how hungry she was. Despite the rather simple meal, it was rather delicious. "I _told_ you, you would manage without a house elf."

Draco took a sip of wine before tucking into his own plate. "Spaghetti from a jar is hardly much of an accomplishment," he replied, curling a few noodles around his fork and taking a bite.

"Well, regardless, it's quite good."

A small look of self-satisfaction flitted across his face, but was replaced quickly with his usual nonchalant demeanor, and he shrugged. The look, however, was not missed by Hermione, who grinned a bit, amused that he had been pleased with such an ordinary compliment.

"I _know_ you saw we should decline to comment on the article," she said, halfway through the quiet dinner. "But we can't avoid the reporters forever...they'll be hanging around until they get something." Malfoy remained silent, but watched her carefully over his wine glass. She took his silence as a cue to continue. "If we just think of something to say to keep them busy..."

"We could just confirm the rumors," he replied, with a mischievous smirk. Hermione gave him a terrified look, her eyes widening so they took up about twice as much of her face than was normal. "It certainly would get them off our cases quicker."

"I am _not_ telling the _Daily Prophet_ we are having an affair!" she said shrilly.

"Worried about Weasley?" he asked, sounding a bit grumpy.

"He's still my friend!"

"Right," he replied, leaning back in his chair, and looking at her, still with a grumpy expression. He was giving off the impression that Hermione was denying him a great treat. Lately, tormenting Ron seemed to be his favorite pastime. "What do_ you_ suggest, then?"

She sat, thinking, not entirely sure. In an effort to give herself more time, she drained the rest of her wine. As usual, when she finished a drink, Draco poured her another.

They drank while cleaning the kitchen, before moving to the sitting room, throwing out ideas of how to handle the reporters. It didn't take long before they started throwing out the most outrageous ideas, none of which made any kind of sense, but always ended with a good laugh each time, as they thought of the media reaction. Neither really knew how late it had gotten by the time they finally started to get serious again. They sat next to each other on the couch, hunched over some parchment that had many scratch outs and scribbles, where each of them had scratched out ideas they didn't like. Every time one of them would write something, the other would shake their head, ink out the idea, rewrite what _they_ wanted, then argue over whose idea was better. Each time this happened, they sat in a huffy silence until another idea was thrown out.

After another one of their periodic silences, Draco felt a weight on his shoulder. Hermione had fallen asleep and slumped sideways onto him. He stared at her for a few moments, before sighing and looking at the clock. It was close to two in the morning. He decided to cross a few things off the already thoroughly marked-up parchment, and added a few of his own ideas, a smirk creeping onto his lips. If Hermione was going to fall asleep, she would have to face the consequences.

At last, he, at least, was satisfied with the statements, and leaned back against the couch with his eyes closed. A few moments rest, and he would get up to get Hermione some blankets so she could sleep on the couch. However, before he could really finish the thought, he too, fell asleep.

–..-..-..-

A/N: Sorry for the long wait on this. I hope it was worth it though :) And I'm sorry if there are more typos in this chapter than the previous ones, I only proof-read it once.


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